


Love of the Second Star

by SteeleStingray



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- Canon Divergence, Attempted Sexual Assault, Auguste Lives, Epic Bromance, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Sex in later chapters, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 121,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8678473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteeleStingray/pseuds/SteeleStingray
Summary: In the book series, Laurent and Damen thought aloud about what life might have been like if their countries were at peace and Auguste had lived...In THIS story Vere and Akielos are allies and 17 year-old Damianos is spending four months of every other year in the Veretian Court. It is there, he begins to feel attracted to the prince of Vere and discovers darkness hiding under the surface of court. Spanning nearly 8 years, Damen, Auguste, and Laurent are embroiled in bittersweet feelings and intense passion. “I would court you with all the grace and courtesy that you deserve. There’d be no lies between us. We’d have time to be together.”(TW FOR LATER IN THE STORY: Implied CSA; Implied Sexual Assault; Sex)





	1. Year 13 (Part 1)

**Author's Note:**

> Why not write another Captive Prince story? This time it's going to be one that's long and drawn out; in fact, I don't even know how many chapters it's going to be. All I do know is that it will span for 5 years and each year will be more than one chapter. Each year will switch between Vere and Akielos.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy how I portray Auguste and young Laurent; I made Damen a bit wittier to keep up with the two of them. I sincerely wish you have fun with me on this ride!

** Vere: Year 13 (Part 1) **

Damianos of Akielos, seventeen and assured as any young man at that age could ever be, sat astride the coal-black steed that was chosen for him because it so perfectly matched his eyes and hair. He was dressed as a Crown Prince should for such an important meeting: a clean white tunic, short at the leg and thrown over one shoulder to showcase the muscles of youth; there were fine leather sandals on his feet and an even finer leather belt, upon which hung his heavy sword; on his dark wavy hair he wore a circlet made from thin leaves of pounded gold. Even though some of the men in his retinue were older, he had the confidence, the great personal force that showed a man born to command.

He waited on the crest of a hill that was a five-minute ride outside the town of Marles alongside his group of four most trusted friends. It was barely dawn.

As they waited, they exchanged gossip about the one for whom they waited.

“A golden prince, they say.” Offered up Nikandros, one of Damianos’ oldest friends. “The apple of his father’s eye and beloved by the people. Much like you, Damianos, save the gold.”

“Ah, but I have gold of a better variety.” Damianos quipped back, motioning to his crown. It incited a laugh from his men.

“They say he’s strong too,” A young soldier named Pallas replied. “In fact, some in Vere say he could beat you when it comes to swordplay.”

Fiercely competitive, Damianos scoffed. “Veretians are finer boned than we are; I would wager my crown he could not beat me at wrestling. As for swordplay, only a proper match could confirm such a claim, no?” His men nodded in assent. Swordplay not only required great physical strength, but also a mental quickness to predict an opponent’s moves and plan accordingly.

In Akielos, Damianos was undefeated in both wrestling and swordplay.

It was no wonder his father, the King, had sent him on this important mission.

“I hear royalty in Vere despise bastards,” Aktis said, “so they only couple with the same sex until marriage. Even their pets are the same. I wonder if the prince enjoys…the delights of male lovers.”

There were a few bawdy thoughts exchanged over those remarks, but one issue was left unspoken.

Hearsay had told everyone from the palace of Vere to the smallest towns in Akielos that Crown Prince Damianos had a type. He liked silky golden hair paired with pale skin and wide eyes. He also liked athletic men and the person they were waiting for happened to meet all of those criteria. People would wonder…

The ground began to shake with the running of a band of horses, and Damianos sat straight up in his saddle, ceasing the banter amongst his men. They scanned the horizon for the royal group.

They saw the starburst banner crest the hill and the envoy from Vere galloped towards them.

At the forefront, and therefore the first to meet them, was a stallion the very color of spun gold, with a delicate body and slimmer legs obviously meant for show and not for strength. A beautiful creature, it skidded to a halt in front of Damianos and its’ rider grinned impishly.

“Prince Damianos? Well met!”

Damianos couldn’t help but smile in reply. “And the same to you, Prince Auguste.”

Auguste of Vere lived up to his descriptions. Also seventeen, he was muscular for a Veretian man, with broad shoulders and a trim waist accentuated by fitted and complicated Veretian clothes. His pure golden hair hung long to his shoulders and he had a face made for merriment. His blue eyes sparkled with good humor and energy from the exercise. He slid off his horse with practiced grace as his courtiers and guards finally caught up with him.

Damianos did the same and the two embraced briefly.

“Gentlemen!” Auguste announced in his aristocratic Veretian. “This is Prince Damianos of Akielos. With our respective fathers having recently renewed our joint peace treaty, Damianos will join us at the Veretian court these next four months.” Sweeping into a deep and obsequious bow, Auguste clearly scandalized his entourage. “I hope you’ll enjoy your time here and it will be my pleasure, and therefore the pleasure of all who serve me, to show you the delights of Vere.”

Damianos clapped him on the shoulder. Being overtly talkative was not in his nature. “I’m thankful for your hospitality and that you offer it to some of my men as well. Let’s not waste any time and make haste back to your home, eh?”

Auguste grinned wide and infectious.

“Of course!” He replied, skillfully mounting his beautiful, golden horse. He looked the type to wear out his stuffy companions. “We can converse as we ride.”

First the two of them introduced their men. On Damianos’ side were his friends and skilled warriors, Nikandros, Pallas, Aktis, and Lydos. Most of them only spoke basic Veretian, but Auguste teased them in Akielon about the length of their ‘skirts’ and how such garments could be sliced in battle to the wearers’ embarrassment. Charming, cheerful and funny, Auguste easily won them over within their first hour together.

Auguste’s group was made up of more people, at least thirty, but he introduced his most capable at least: there was the stoic captain Jord, the easygoing soldiers Orlant and Lazar, the physician Paschal, and even the noblewoman Lady Vannes.

“We will have to get you into some proper clothes when we reach Arles. Otherwise my court will be completely scandalized.” Auguste sounded as though nothing appealed to him more than an unnerved court. “Ios must be warm indeed if the lot of you run about in handkerchiefs.”

He and Damianos had pulled to the front of their caravan and were bantering like old friends.

Damianos grinned at his tanned, bare legs. “I’m amazed more of your people don’t wet their pants. It must take some skill to be drunk or aroused and be able to untie those laces.”

Auguste had an easy laugh. “Touché! How fares your brother?”

Damianos’ brother Kastor was almost his equal in strength and swordplay, but he had neither the noble blood nor the level head needed to rule a nation. Instead he was in charge of supplying the next heir; to keep things fair between his sons, King Theomedes had decided to let Damianos be his successor and for Kastor to sow his seed shamelessly in order to create a monumental royal family. Both brothers had signed the agreement to this option, considering it to be fair on both sides, Damianos explained to Auguste.

“…So I assume, Kastor, at this moment, is how he always is: cock-deep in his harem.”

Auguste could not stop laughing and Damianos was beginning to enjoy providing him with humor. “Ha ha! You Akielons are innovators! It’s a novel idea, but I’m sure my brother would blanch at the very idea. His one and only love is the library.”

Damianos struggled to remember Auguste’s family tree; the sons of Aleron and Hennike, were Auguste and… “Laurent? What is he like?”

Auguste’s face lit up; apparently Damianos had touched upon one of his favorite topics. “He’s about halfway to fourteen now and growing like a weed. Difficult, as all boys are when they’re young, but god he’s smart, so smart. He says he studies so that he can be helpful to me when he comes of age. He’s still young though; he’s longing for a horse like mine, but I couldn’t find any ponies this color. I suppose it helps that I usually let him win our horse races, though I can tell he still wants a full-sized one…” Auguste was obviously a fool for his brother.

He would have continued on at some length if the Lady Vannes had not ridden abreast of them, eyes glittering with interest at the topic of conversation.

“You speak of Laurent the Liar?”

Damianos saw it for a split second: a look of black fury that sparked in Auguste’s blue eyes before he hid it away. A mask of polite friendliness taking its’ place.

“A liar?” Damianos asked.

“The boy has a tongue on him like a razor blade.” Lady Vannes spoke candidly. “And you know young ones like that. Always stretching the truth, exaggerating their accomplishments…pinning blame on others. It’s just harder to catch that young Prince he’s so smart. I hope you don’t upset easily or you’ll be riding back to Ios within the week.”

Personally, Damianos thought she was treading on dangerous ground. In Akielos, one would never _dream_ of making such accusations about the royal family, especially in the presence of one’s older brother.

Indeed, Auguste’s brittle smile looked as though it might shatter at any moment.

“I’ll reserve my judgment until I meet the boy.” Damianos responded lightly. “But I wouldn’t worry. I’m hardly the sensitive type.”

Vannes leaned in conspiratorially towards Auguste. “So we’ve heard, haven’t we Your Majesty? But Prince Damianos of Akielos prefers the sensitive, golden types pinned beneath his covers…”

Damianos chuckled to himself as Auguste spun on her. “Are you trying to pick a fight, My Lady?”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry.” He assured them. “I like men who’ve lost their spots. I assure you, I have no interest in bedding your younger brother.” The older on the other hand…

This friendly back and forth made the ride much easier, along with Auguste’s methodical knowledge of each and every province they passed through. His intimate understanding of his own land was surely the sign of a king who would be readily involved with his people’s well-being.

Vere was a lovely country, in Damianos’ opinion, and after a full day’s ride through it, they arrived in the city of Arles a few hours after sunset.

The royal palace of Vere was a confection of marble, carved so intricately over every square foot that it was hard to take it all in. It bustled with activity, in preparation for their foreign guests no doubt, and Damianos felt eyes on his dark form, though when he looked around every person seemed to be pointedly avoiding staring at him.

He felt very odd here; too tall, too tanned, too exposed. All the nobility here covered the entirety of their legs and most were clothed to the wrist as well. His clothes, in comparison, looked positively barbarian.

Auguste seemed not to notice but smiled with delight. “Ah! Look there. Come to greet us no doubt.”

There was a thin, pale form sat on the marble steps to the entrance, unaware---or uncaring---that he was in the way of every person trying to enter. People moved around him without a second glance. His head shot up when he heard the sound of hooves on cobblestone, and a bright gleam of gold flashed in the torchlight.

Damianos had unseated himself from his horse by the time the second prince of Vere had run up to his brother.

“My god, what a beauty…” He heard one of his men say in hoarse Akielon.

There was beauty in this boy’s face.

He was a miniature of his brother, all gold and cream with two bright, sapphire blue eyes, but he was more delicate, fine-boned, slender, and androgynous. In perhaps three or four years, when he was in the full bloom of youth, he would be the most attractive man in four kingdoms, but for now he was just a boy; pretty, yes, but still green as a shoot.

This was the bookish and less jovial second prince, Laurent of Vere.

He looked up with unveiled adoration at his elder brother who was rubbing his hair fondly. “Did you wait out here long? We’ve been in the saddle all day. Go on, greet our guests. This is Crown Prince Damianos of Akielos; he speaks Veretian but you know Akielon better than I do.”

Laurent’s gaze was unlike his brother. Like a wary cat, his expression changed when he caught sight of strangers, and he became prickly and distrustful.

The young boy assessed him coolly, running a practiced eye up and down Damianos’ form. He seemed unimpressed but a wicked smile, reminiscent of his brother’s, twitched at the corner of his mouth.

“Brother, I know you don’t study as much as I do,” His voice was soft and deliberate, “but I recognize a bear in a person’s clothes when I see one.”

Damianos flushed scarlet, amazed at the insult, while Auguste barked a laugh before he could catch himself. Both men were astonished at the quick wit of this saucy little boy, who seemed unperturbed. Auguste was having a hard time not laughing aloud, his mouth twitching desperately.

“Laurent!” He chastised, not sounding firm at all. “It does not reflect well on our family or our country if you tease esteemed guests.”

“I’m sorry.” He did not sound very sorry at all.

In fact he sounded pleased, gazing at his brother with a hopeful expression. He had _wanted_ Auguste to laugh, for the foreign prince and his beloved older brother to recognize his skill.

“Introduce yourself,” Auguste ordered kindly, ruffling that corn-silk hair. The boy positively glowed.

“I am Prince Laurent of Vere,” He replied mechanically as if he had been through this speech before, “second prince under my brother, and his loyal servant. I hope to become a service to him in the future and it is a _pleasure_ to meet your acquaintance, Exalted One.”

_Laurent the Liar_.

Damianos could feel that the boy did not care a whit for him and was just doing this to bask in his brother’s approval. “A service to your brother?” He replied dryly. “I can see you already have a hand for diplomacy.”

Auguste burst out laughing, clapping Damianos on the shoulder. “Ha ha! It is a relief you have a sense of humor about you!” Damianos felt a little guilty at the barb though when he saw young Laurent looking down, flushed with embarrassment, having his skills teased by an esteemed guest in front of his brother. Damianos did not want to pick fights with children.

“Come on then, Damianos, Laurent.” Auguste smiled and threw his arm around Damianos’ shoulder. “Let’s go to greet my father.”

He looked behind them as they took long strides through the halls of the palace, and saw silently Laurent jogging a little in order to keep up with their longer legs; he would sooner die than ask them to slow down for his benefit. What a delightfully stubborn kid.

“Thank you for not holding my brothers’ words against him.” Auguste whispered apologetically to Damianos. “He’s not particularly outgoing or strong so he uses his intellect to be noticed. Just treat him as a foolish little boy if he offends.”

What was truly offensive was the Veretian sense of décor.

Every way they turned it was as if some merchant had gotten a hold of the hallway and thrown every last valuable tapestry and statue and piece of furniture he owned across it. It was garish in comparison to the simpler Akielon style.

“I think you need another bolt of silk to hang across this wall,” Damen remarked, inciting a laugh from Auguste.

“Jord, if you would kindly show Prince Damianos’ men to their quarters and allow them to clean and rest themselves before dinner. We will be in my father’s study until the feasting.”

The Akielons were led away with Jord at the lead, and the three remaining, Auguste, Damianos, and little Laurent, weaved expertly through the groups of gossiping Veretians and the seemingly labyrinthine corridors. Laurent’s cheeks were flushed with the exercise but he made no motion to join in the conversation between his elder brother and the strange foreign prince.

Auguste rapped his knuckles expertly on one of the heavy oaken doors and swung it in with the assurance of a father’s favorite.

Damianos caught another startling dark look from Auguste, and the man threw back his arm, keeping Laurent from moving any further. Then, as quickly as it had come, the look faded back into his normal expression of good humor. Damianos followed him into the brightly lit room, noting for a moment how Laurent lagged behind outside the door. Apparently he was not mature enough to be included…or had pissed someone off inside the room.

Damianos threw back his shoulders and entered with confidence.

King Aleron and Damianos father, King Theomedes, had signed a contract ten years ago that had neatly split the province of Delpha down the center, giving half to each kingdom and essentially ending the decades-long war between the two nations. Five years ago, they had renewed the contract with an understanding that their same-aged sons would spend time together becoming close friends. This was the reason Damianos was here and the reason why Auguste would come to Ios next year.

He was a man in his mid-forties with an ample golden mustache and matching hair that hug low on his shoulders like his eldest sons’. His face was more squarish, with a wide jaw (it was obvious Laurent took after his mother) and he had the broader shoulders and thick forearms of a former warrior.

He beamed. “Welcome to Arles, my boy.” Damianos leaned down for the king’s blessing and allowed himself to be roughly embraced. “I hope my son did not bore you on the ride here.”

“Auguste is an asset to his country.” Damianos replied, grinning as he saw Auguste blush furiously at the compliment. “I’m sure I’ll learn much here in Arles.”

Aleron also felt the force of the compliment. “I certainly hope my sons can grow like you. What do they _feed_ you in Ios?”

“May I also introduce my uncle.” Auguste interrupted, gesturing to the other man standing in the shadows of the room.

Unlike the king and Crown Prince Auguste, this man had a quieter force about him. He was the type to take command with words and mind games, rather than openness and assurance. Like young Laurent, he sized Damianos up with a cool, crocodilian gaze, perhaps deciding if it was worth the time and effort to devour him. But he smiled softly and bowed over Damianos’ extended hand.

“A pleasure.”

The four of them talked after of life in Akielos and how the small towns in Vere seemed to fare, as well as quite a few comments on Damen’s bulk and skimpy clothing, which he took with good grace. The topic soon turned to brothers, and after a few moments spent on Kastor’s benefit, Laurent came into the conversation.

“Have you met the Prince Laurent?” His uncle asked lightly.

“Yes,” Damianos replied and Aleron stiffened.

“I hope my youngest didn’t say anything…untoward?” He sounded on the verge of being angry; apparently this was a common occurrence. “He’s smart, but very precocious and he hasn’t the faintest idea of how to talk to others without insulting them.”

Auguste glanced toward the door with obvious concern.

“Not at all.” Damianos lied. “I found him intelligent and eager to be of service to his brother.” Both the King and Auguste relaxed in relief, but the Uncle raised his eyebrow, as if calling the bluff. At least he didn’t press the issue.

Clever Laurent had disappeared by the time the four of them exited for dinner, and he did not appear again until Damianos and Auguste had entered the dining hall together, laughing at their near inability to find Veretian clothes that would fit Damianos. Even now the laces had to be loosely done to accommodate the bulge of his muscular figure.

“I’ll commission clothes to be made for you as soon as possible.” Auguste promised through his giggles. “These sleeves are _far_ too short and you look as loosely laced as a tavern maid!”

“I don’t _feel_ loose.” Damianos replied carefully, trying not to rip through the fabric by moving too suddenly. “I feel ridiculous.”

At least now he blended in.

The Veretian court was all about gaudy beauty, just like the tastes in decoration, so everyone was laced in their finest and spattered with brilliant jewelry. The pets, Veretian status symbols and sexual servants, were just as eye-catching for the skin they showed. Like their ‘owners’, they too wore elaborate jewelry, but their clothes were more Akielon in length. They were all beautiful.

Auguste saw him admiring some of them and leaned in. “If you desire a bedmate, I’m sure it would be the honor of any one of them to serve you. But only the men; I’m sure an Akielon bastard would be…”

“Scandalous?” Damianos offered and Auguste shook with laughter. “Do you…partake?”

“Unfortunately for many,” Auguste sighed, pulling up their seats in the place of honor at the head table, “I do not enjoy the charms of men.” _How unfortunate_.

“It shouldn’t matter to you anyways,” Laurent pulled a chair close to his brother, “as you have no charms to speak of, _Exalted One_.”

Little brat. Damianos calmly accepted an apologetic glass of wine from Auguste. “At least my cock has hair.”

Laurent burned pink and crossed his legs at the right guess, while his tactful older brother struggled to choke down a mouthful of wine. Damianos really did not want to be so cruel to the kid, but Laurent was always instigating. Perhaps preparing his next barbed comment, Laurent stayed silent until the food came.

By this time, Damianos’ men had arrived, looking equally uncomfortable in their Veretian clothes, as well as King Aleron and the royal Uncle. Damianos had also scouted out the assortment of male pets in supply, finding most of them to have the smooth, pearly skin and long eyelashes he liked. Veretian wine was incomparably sweet…

At one point in the course, Auguste was called away by one of his lords leaving Damianos near the awkward and obviously uncomfortable Laurent. His austere style and uptight attitude seemed largely at odds with the flashy, relaxed attitude of his court. Damianos was feeling indulgent due to the wine and good food.

“Your brother tells me you enjoy the library.” He offered to start the conversation. “And _yes_ , before you ask, I do know how to read.”

Laurent played with his own hands, loath to look up. “Y-yes…I have not the physical skill Auguste has…so I cannot be strong…therefore, I must be intelligent…”

For a moment Damianos was struck with fondness for the little boy.

He wondered how many times Laurent had heard these harsh words about his skills from behind closed doors. He wanted to offer him a compliment, just to see his reaction. He patted the boy’s blond head.

“I think its’ admirable.”

For a moment, Laurent looked up, his blue eyes sparkling the way they did when Auguste showed him kindness; but then, like a flower bitten by frost, he darkened and wilted in on himself, mouth twisting with disbelief.

“That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think? To admire me? You’ve just met me. What a hasty judge of character.”

Like being sliced with an icy wind, Damianos recoiled and turned his attention away from that poisonous boy and back to his father and uncle. It was a heaven-sent relief when Auguste returned, melting Laurent and cooling Damianos’ anger.

The food and wine and the presence of the handsome foreign prince made everyone except Laurent especially tranquil and indulgent, the hall seeming to take on an incensed haze. Their tight, complicated clothes did not mean the Veretians were the same; rather, slaking their thirst made them languorous and aroused. Damianos tried to hide his discomfort as he saw _very_ intimate massages occurring brazenly throughout the hall.

More glasses of wine and Auguste motioned someone forward with a mischievous smile on his handsome face.

Damianos’ came face-to-face with a Veretian beauty of a man: white skin, wide eyes, long-limbed, and a smile like a snake. He ran clever fingers down the curve of Damianos’ clothed thigh and Damianos responded by stroking the boy’s fine red-gold hair. He was very forward in comparison to Akielon slaves, but a change never hurt…

“Are you ready to retire?” Auguste seemed pleased his choice was appreciated. Damianos nodded slowly, his head feeling heavy from food, wine, and exhaustion. “Excellent! Laurent, we’re going back to our quarters.”

It sounded more like an order than a statement of fact and Damianos glanced at the little boy. He was gazing with glassy blue eyes out at his orgiastic court, expressionless and stiff as a marble statue. For a moment he looked utterly alone and disjointed from his very own countrymen. But in the moment Auguste’s words pierced the haze in Laurent’s mind, he was up on his feet, Auguste’s miniature golden shadow.

The lithe pet stood with Damianos, linking fingers with almost inhuman grace, and Damianos pulled him forward, stumbling a few steps behind Laurent and Auguste.

Laurent and Auguste walked without looking away from their paths, probably for the best, because some Veretian nobles had not made it back to their rooms and had begun to fuck frantically in the hallways. Damianos also was starting to feel a familiar throb between his legs.

The pet nuzzled against his chest as the four of them arrived at Damianos’ rooms.

Auguste patted Laurent’s shoulder and smiled at Damianos. “We bid you a pleasant evening, Damianos.” He nudged Laurent in an attempt to make him speak up as well. Laurent the Liar refused, looking down sullenly.

“You still sleep with your big brother?” Damianos asked teasingly.

Laurent looked up at him then, brow furrowed in a mix of anger and embarrassment. Auguste also looked down at his brother with some unnamed emotion in his matching eyes.

“…Better than sleeping alone.”


	2. Year 13 (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to try to keep each year to about 3 or 4 parts to keep this from becoming a 800-chapter series (I bet some of you would enjoy that though). This chapter gets a little intense towards the end, but I hope you all enjoy the relationships I'm trying to build in this story ;)

** Vere: Year 13 (Part 2) **

Damianos’---or Prince Damen, as they called him in the palace, as ‘Damianos’ was too long to moan---days fell into a comfortable rhythm after his first and a half month in Arles.

After his first taste of a purebred Veretian ‘pet’ with that deliciously limber reddish-gold boy, Damen had amassed quite a reputation among the pets, nobles, and soldiers of Vere who enjoyed being bent over furniture and fucked silly. His bedmates had perhaps exaggerated their tales, for instance, the baby-faced nobleman who claimed Damen’s cock put his own horse’s to shame, but it had supplied him with basically any sweet man he could want. His bed was almost never empty these days.

Usually his day began at the crack of dawn, with a sleepy erection, which he put to good use on whichever lethargic youth was tangled in his bed sheets. By midmorning he breakfasted with the Veretian princes and whichever of their guards had the free time to join in.

After breakfast came Damen and Auguste’s favorite part of the day: exercise.

The palace at Arles had some of the finest training grounds Damen had ever encountered and he used them with relish. His mock swordfights with Auguste had attracted the attention of most of the Veretian battalion, they were so lengthy and complex. Some men even admitted to taking bets on who would be the victor.

Aside from swordplay, there was an archery pitch, a paddock to break in horses, and an entire field for practicing spear-throwing. Damen and Pallas had, on a memorable occasion, had a wrestling match; Damen’s skill was such that two of Vere’s soldiers discreetly asked afterwards to wrestle him in the privacy of his own quarters.

An informal lunch came during physical activities and then the men would retire shortly to the baths.

He would join Auguste with his father the king for a short time, as they discussed Veretian policies and decrees with their council, but he was not obligated to stay the entire time. So around late afternoon, Damen would wander the palace, converse with the courtiers, or do any number of other things to entertain himself until dinnertime.

He was beginning to understand Veretian customs and quirks.

Mostly, it was thanks to Auguste.

They had become fast, easy friends, united in their roles as lovers of sport and the future kings of their respective countries. It was nice, they both found, to have a friend with a common set of skills and responsibilities.

Woven into their daily routine, however, was Laurent the Liar.

He was _always_ two steps behind Auguste, glowering at Damen. Damen had hoped time would soften the boy to him, but it had not; his tongue would have been more pleasant had it been made of sharpened steel.

The boy, as Damen had suspected the first night, spent nearly every night in his brother’s chambers. He had walked in on Damen and Auguste having a late conversation over a cup of wine on more than one occasion, and had simply ignored the two of them as he snuggled into Auguste’s expansive bed. He also emerged nearly every morning for breakfast with Auguste, sleepy sweet and tousled. Damen wondered if he had no proper bed of his own.

He always had a small stack of books while they trained outdoors, and never seemed to tear his eyes away. But as soon as they had finished, he was quick to follow them to lunch or the baths.

Really, the only time he was not glued to them, was when Auguste and Damen conferred with King Aleron.

In all honesty, if Laurent hadn’t annoyed him so much, he would have felt bad for the boy. There were no other boys his age at court---probably as they were in their own homes, training to become the next crop of lords---and apparently his acidic attitude had not garnered him many friends outside of his age either. When Auguste could not hear (but Laurent could) some bitter nobles and soldiers liberally referred to him as ‘Laurent the Liar’; everyone else treated him like he did not exist. He even fell beneath his father’s view, as King Aleron surrounded himself by vibrant, physical people. Even in cases where Laurent could display his superior intellect in front of his father, it usually offended someone important.

He struck Damen as an extraordinarily lonely boy hidden in his brother’s larger-than-life shadow.

At least Auguste doted on him; Laurent, in turn, _worshipped_ his brother.

In the middle of his second month, when he had begun to get too comfortable in his routine, Damen decided to put himself up to a challenge and break that prickly boy’s shell. Since Auguste was in with his father and their councilors, there could be only one place to where the boy had escaped.

He pushed open the door to the extensive library and began to trot up and down the aisles looking for that familiar flash of gold.

He finally found the boy surrounded by a veritable fort of books, his nose buried deep in one enormous tome. Damen admired his single-minded concentration when it came to reading, but it seemed like he had gotten enough love of books for an entire court; Damen had never seen another Veretian courtier or noble set foot in the library.

“Well met, Little Scholar.” Damen hailed him, trying not to sound mocking.

Laurent’s reaction was extreme; startled, he threw himself backwards with a sharp squeal, using all of his tiny strength to fling the book at Damen’s head. Luckily, his throw was weak and Damen was able to snatch it cleanly out of the air, but Laurent had not fared so well.

When Damen reached him, trying to hold back laughter, Laurent was nearly bent over himself, stacks of books upended around him, bruises on his wrists and cheek.

He looked more annoyed than startled now.

Without Laurent asking, Damen leaned over and cupped him under the armpits, righting him with one simple pull. When he was righted, Laurent moved quickly to smooth his hair and cover his embarrassment. Damen waited smilingly for him to finish.

“Why are you here?” He asked accusingly, blue eyes cold.

Damen had expected such a response by now, so it didn’t even faze him. “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that this library belonged to you, and only you. I missed your smiling face and winning personality so I figured I’d hunt you down for some pleasant conversation.”

“Don’t you have some servant boy to bugger?” Laurent asked crudely.

“I don’t bother the boys.” Damen laughed, “Though lord knows they bother me. I like women and grown-ass men. Cheeky brat. What are you reading?”

Laurent looked at him warily, as if Damen was lying about his interest.

In a swift movement that hinted at latent athleticism, Laurent snatched the book out of Damen’s hands, his trailing laces whipping Damen’s wrist. He clutched it tight to his thin chest and his response came out in a whisper, “It’s…a…a history of…V-Veretian war s-strategy…” Then the words flowed rapidly, in a force he could scarcely seem to stop. “Everyone says I’m not strong or friendly like Auguste is, so I’d not be much help in war, but I thought…I thought if I knew strategy and geography I could, you know, _help_ him during a war…”

He caught himself them, and forced his mouth closed, not wanting to give Damen any further glimpse into the inner workings of his mind.

“Haaa…despite your best efforts, you’re a good kid.” Damen replied. He always underestimated just how much Laurent loved Auguste.

That wary look again. “Being nice to me won’t get you into my brother’s pants.”

Damen ruffled that silky hair the way Auguste often did. Laurent yelped. “Are you _jealous_?”

The boy was quick. Damen felt that he had been very discreet about his growing fondness for Auguste; his looks and personality were 100% Damen’s type. Outwardly he tried to remain only close friends and it was probably for the best as Auguste was true to his word and showed no interest in sleeping with any man.

Laurent pulled an expression that was almost close to a pout, showing his age. “You are similar, in age and personality; I don’t fit into that place.”

“True.” Damen remarked and noticed that Laurent flinched as though he had been struck. “But he is your brother. There is nothing I could do to compete with that either.”

Victory. Laurent smiled softly, hugging himself around the waist.

Emboldened, Damen inched closer. It was like taming a feral dog; he had to tread carefully. “Which book is your favorite?”

Surprisingly, it was a book of Veretian folk tales.

Damen thumbed through said book while he lounged on the marble tiles of Auguste’s private bath a few hours later. For once Laurent had elected not to join them and so Damen felt at ease reading in the bath, though he was still being _very_ careful. Unlike most people’s favorite books, this one showed no signs of wear and tear, even appearing to be brand new, the pages were so crisp. But that was Laurent’s trademark: he apparently took extra special care with the things he loved.

Auguste was getting a massage from a male pet that kept glancing over at Damen’s legs. Of course the two of them were indulging in some wine as well.

“I used to--- _oh_ , there---read that to him when he was younger. My mother, god rest her soul, gave it to him for his fifth birthday.”

“I used to have one similar.” Damen defended.

“I’m amazed he lent it to you.” Auguste laughed, his face reddening from the heat and drink. “What did you do to him?”

“Scared him and he threw a book at my head.”

Auguste chuckled at the image. “If a man could slay a boar with a book, then Laurent would ride at the head of our hunting party.” Most of the Veretian nobles and soldiers who had a head for sport were going on a boar hunt the next week, and bets were going as to which of the princes would kill a beast. Damen was determined to show them that he was more than capable.

“Even if he did,” Damen responded turning another page, “most of your court would be convinced he lied about it.”

The pet screamed and Damen started, nearly dropping the book in the bath, as Auguste flung his wine glass to floor with a crash, in a stain of red-violet. Auguste was standing now, hands clenched, eyes glittering with unchecked fury, completely naked…

Damen did note, despite his shock, that Auguste was built like an Akielon statue.

“I AM _TIRED_ OF EVERYONE IN ARLES CALLING MY BROTHER A LIAR!”

Tipsy and filled with anger at this insurmountable gossip, Auguste winced, turning on his heel and snatching a towel to cover himself as he went to cool off in his rooms. Damen sighed. He snapped the book shut and retrieved his own towel, intent on going after Auguste.

First he calmed the pet, who was practically sobbing in the corner of the bathroom. Usually Auguste cultivated a careful outer persona of kindness and good humor, but he was only human. Still, his anger must have startled the poor pet. He crushed up into Damen’s arms and allowed himself to be soothed; Damen sent him off to his own quarters where he promised to calm the man all night long if needed. The pet seemed extremely keen on the idea and took Laurent’s book with a blush and a deep bow.

Auguste had managed to put on a loose white undershirt and was sitting on his bed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Sobered up?” Damen asked softly.

“My brother is _not_ _a liar_.”

“No one believes that he is.”

“He’s not,” Auguste laughed sharply. “But you’re definitely lying now.”

“Well he certainly isn’t the type to make friends easily.” Damen admitted. “And there aren’t many boys his age in the palace anyway. But if he’s anything like his older brother,” Damen rested his hand on Auguste’s smooth white shoulder, “he’ll carve out his own place in court.”

Auguste looked up at him with an unwilling smile. “Laurent should give you more credit.”

“I am more than a thoughtless brute. And I’m a sucker for blondes.”

 

The morning of the hunt dawned gray and foggy; on any other day it would have been considered a dreary day, but for boar hunting it would be nearly perfect weather. The boar would think itself safe in the mist and would rummage uninhibited in the verdant Veretian forests.

Damen and his men were in high spirits.

They chattered in excited Akielon at the prospect of a good hunt. Pallas, Lydos, and Aktis saddled the horses and led them out so that their Prince and Nikandros could mount alongside what seemed like all the young men in the palace.

Damen hoisted himself up in the saddle, his black horse rearing handsomely at all the activity. Damen reigned him in with one smooth motion, showcasing his firm arms, and he swore he heard half the men sigh with lustful desire.

“I hear there are wagers as to the champion of the hunt?” He asked Pallas who was handing him a bundle of spears, the preferred Akielon hunting weapon.

Pallas bowed his head with a small smile. “Indeed, My Prince.”

“We have bet on the winner.” Lydos added. Damianos looked around at his men swelling with pride, as he knew each of them would stake their gold on his prowess.

Damen gave another sweep of the courtyard. Not every young man was going, and not all the hunters were men. The pets milled prettily behind the balustrades, many staring pointedly at Damen, while the Lady Vannes and some of her escort were suiting up with the hunters. King Aleron and his brother were also giving their blessings from the entrance of the palace; boar hunting was a young man’s sport. There was one person missing.

Damen spun his horse looking for those familiar twin flashes of gold.

There they were. The crowd parted with impressed murmurs as Damen urged his horse up to where Auguste was bidding his brother farewell in a secluded spot near the servant’s entrance. Laurent looked sick from nerves.

Auguste turned to see the interloper and smiled when he saw Damen’s familiar form.

“Do you have to go?” Laurent looked at his brother helplessly. He actually looked kind of sweet in this instance.

“Don’t worry, Little Prince.” Damen said kindly. “Boars are dangerous but your brother is a fine hunter, we have Paschal with us, and I will protect him for you.”

Auguste smoothed his brother’s hair, ignoring Damen’s jab at his capability. “I have to go, Laurent, but I’ll be back before you know it. Just do as I say, ok? I won’t let anything happen.”

Laurent looked at his brother with a kind of desperation, perhaps hoping beyond hope that Auguste would change his mind and stay with him at the palace.

But it was not to be.

With a final kiss on Laurent’s furrowed brow, Auguste turned towards the hunting party that was waiting for His Grace. He took the bridle of his pale horse (pleasantly in contrast to Damen’s dark colors) and hailed his father for the King’s Blessing. Laurent was not to be seen in the crowd.

“Are you ready for defeat, Prince Damianos?” Auguste asked lightly, slinging a quiver over his shoulder. Although his eyes sparkled with his normal mischievous nature, his mind seemed to be elsewhere.

“Hardly! I would hate to deprive my men of their hard-earned gold.”

“One moment,” Auguste’s attention was taken suddenly by the appearance of a small group of stableboys that were lugging weapons and tack to load up the wagon. Damen watched with interested as Auguste cantered over to confront them. They bowed low with the honor of speaking with their prince before he pulled one of them off to the side and began to explain something to him. The youth nodded vigorously in understanding and Auguste rested one hand on his head before re-mounting and riding back over to Damen.

“May I ask…what was that about?” Damen asked.

Auguste smiled. “A precaution. Shall we ride?”

Damen shrugged off the unusually brusque change in subject. Within the next twenty minutes, horses streamed out of the palace of Arles to the cheers of those waiting behind. Auguste, at the front with Damen, kept looking back but there was no sign of Laurent amidst the crowd.

The forest on the outskirts of Arles was like something out of a fairy tale.

The trees were thick and twisted with age, and even the presence of dozens of vivacious young men on horseback could not overcome the tremendous silence that echoed in the leaves. Boars lived here, and stags and wolves, lithe golden cats and even the occasional bear. Mist hung thick and heavy on the ground.

The Veretians seemed completely at ease in this cool, dark setting, but Damen and his men were out of their elements. They were used to sun and sea and music to accompany their hunt. It was for this reason that Aktis nearly fell from his horse as the boar shot out from the underbrush.

Like a pair of rivals, Damen and Auguste followed the dark, piggy shadow at a canter, driven forward by approving shouts of their men.

Auguste was grinning, his eyes narrowed in determination as he prepared to dismount. Damen gripped his spears in anticipation and the two of them stopped at the exact same time.

It was quiet.

You had to be very careful with boars. They were large with thick hides that could take multiple wounds, agile in the undergrowth, and with tusks that could disembowel a man with one slice.

“Not too late to ride back.” Damen jabbed. Their horses were so fine, they had outstripped all the other men on the hunt.

“Surely, you must be joking.”

Both of them jumped a little as they heard the sound of movement in the forest. Auguste notched an arrow as smoothly as he breathed, the wood resting against his fine cheek. Damen also held a spear aloft with muscles coiled tight as a spring. The hoof beats got louder and louder, almost…too loud for a boar.

“ _Your Majesty_!”

Simultaneously, the two princes dropped their weapons as a winded brown palfrey skidded through the fog, throwing its’ rider. Damen launched himself forward to catch the person and when he looked down he was surprised to see the exhausted stableboy Auguste had talked to before they left.

“You idiot!” Damen chastised, furious beyond belief. “You could have been killed! The Prince and I thought you were a---.”

He stopped at that moment when he realized the boy was not even listening to him but staring beseechingly at Auguste.

“Your Majesty…” He gasped. “I rode as…fast as I could…”

“What the hell is he---?”

Damen turned to Auguste and recoiled. Auguste looked down at the boy in white-faced horror. His very body trembled and, before their eyes, a look of blatant and all-consuming fury darkened his handsome face. Something was very, _very_ wrong.

Before Damen could even try to guess at what was happening, Auguste was moving fast, practically throwing himself on his horse; the boar hunt was forgotten in his rage. “Tell my men there’s been an emergency!” He ordered at either Damen or the boy. “I ride back to Arles with all haste!”

“I’m coming with you,” Damen responded, fearing the death of King Aleron, a war, or some equally devastating news. “Boy, ride to find our men and tell them we have left the hunt to them.”

Auguste seemed only half-listening to him as he began to gallop off back to the city. It took Damen a few minutes to catch him in the fog, and his friend, when they came abreast of one another, looked torn between sickness and a deep, dark anger. Auguste was also muttering to himself in such choked Veretian, Damen could not begin to understand.

When they had cleared the trees to the forest, Damen felt bold enough to start probing his friend. “Is your father, King Aleron…is he alright?”

It startled Auguste out of his hazy rage, almost as if he had forgotten Damen was even riding next to him. “My father?! Oh! Oh…no. My father is…fine.”

Their horses were breathing hard from the all out run. “You ride as if your father is in peril.”

Auguste winced then, as if Damen’s words had literally pierced him. He thrust a hand to his breast and seemed to choke on his own thoughts. Damen’s concern was extreme and he decided not to press the matter any further.

At the horses’ flat-out run, the two of them were back to the palace within a half an hour, whereas the ride to the forest had taken more than double that time.

Heedless of all else, Auguste practically leapt from his horse, tossing the reins aside, and shedding his bow and quiver as if everything were useless to him. He did not even wait to see if someone was coming to properly stable his valuable horse; instead he was running up the stairs, skipping steps to save himself time. Damen _did_ wait for the stable boys to appear before running in after his friend. It was easy to follow him as he had apparently left a string of confused pets and courtiers in his wake.

Damen ran, skidding on the marble floors, feeling his heartbeat pound in his head as he further and further into the maze-like Veretian palace. He was close, he could feel it.

The door to Auguste’s quarters had been hastily left ajar.

Damen barreled through them, finally realizing the reason Auguste would abandon his friends, his weapons, and his pride as the Crown Prince of Vere.


	3. Year 13 (Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready to see the end of the cliffhanger? This is the last part in Vere and I'm sorry if it seems like I'm skipping huge chunks of time. I just really want to focus on the relationship between the three princes and the moments that improve or change it. Next chapter will be the first in Akielos!
> 
> SOME TRIGGER WARNINGS APPLY IN THIS CHAPTER, SO READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

** Vere: Year 13 (Part 3) **

Laurent sat straight backed on his older brother’s bed, looking much as he always did, at first glance.

His hands were clenched in his lap and he was twisting his fingers as he did when he was nervous. He refused to meet Auguste’s gaze and even looked as white and ill as his brother had earlier in the forest. Damen felt as though he was invisible in this situation.

“Laurent,” Auguste began. He sounded calm, but there was a barely restrained fury underneath.

Unable to ignore his beloved brother, Laurent’s head snapped up and his blue eyes were hard and shiny. “It was my fault, Auguste! I…I tried to listen to you b-but…father called me and…and I couldn’t…I _had_ to go…it was _my_ fault…” At this statement, Auguste looked as though Laurent’s pain was literally becoming his own. He slowly moved to sit next to his brother.

“What happened, Laurent?” Laurent looked back down at his hands, small shoulders drooping. “Tell me, little brother…”

To provide them privacy from prying eyes, Damen slowly moved to shut the door but when he turned back he was nearly bowled over by Auguste. His face was a white mask of fury and Damen caught him by the shoulders.

“DAMIANOS! LET ME _GO_!!!”

Damen braced his own shoulders against the heavy wood of the door, digging his heels into the marble. Auguste’s anger made him more than a match in strength, despite the fact that he was slightly leaner.

“Auguste, don’t!” Laurent’s cry was shrill and his expression was panicked. “ _Please don’t!_ ”

“DAMIANOS, YOU STAY HERE WITH MY BROTHER!” Auguste was heedless of both of them. “I’LL _KILL_ HIM!”

Damen was so startled by this outburst that he let Auguste go. The questions hung, unspoken, in the air: _Who are you going to kill? And why?_ All of three of them paused in that moment. Auguste, breathing hard and still filled with murderous rage, had one hand on the door and stared with pain at Laurent. Laurent, to his benefit was not crying, but he had sunk to his knees on the floor as he silently begged his brother to stop. And in between the two of them, confused and honestly a bit intimidated was Damen.

“Damianos…Damen,” Auguste had calmed, for only a moment, but his grip on the door was white-knuckled. “I want you to stay with Laurent. As my friend… _please_ …I can only trust you with this.”

Damen looked him up and down. He was desperate. “Ok…Ok, I’ll stay.”

“Thank you.”

“ _Auguste_!” Laurent reached out for his brother, hands shaking. “ _Please_ …Please don’t tell father. Please don’t tell him…It’s… _shameful_ …”

Auguste’s features were torn; he looked at his brother with nothing short of the greatest love, but there was a sharp chip of pain in his features as well. He looked truly devastated as he turned away from Laurent and swept out of his quarters without a backward glance.

Damen attempted to take this one moment to try and wrap his head around everything that had just happened, but he heard Laurent making small noises of distress and turned his attention to the kid.

Laurent still knelt on the floor, his head dropped and arms limp, but stubborn as he was, he did not cry.

Just like in the library, Damen scooped him up under his armpits and plopped Laurent next to him on the bed. Laurent attempted to sit up ramrod straight again, but he trembled with exertion. He did not seem keen on making conversation, so Damen waited, looking to see what was off about the boy…

He almost looked gaunt, like there were dark circles under his hard blue eyes and bruises on his lips. Then Damen looked at his clothes…

Laurent was neurotically neat, even by Veretian standards, and aside from sleeping and bathing, his clothes were never short of perfectly in order. But today he looked hastily dressed, with laces strung through the incorrect holes, cloth gaping at the neck and strings untied at his wrists. It felt so very wrong, so very unlike him, that Damen became intent on fixing it to give him some semblance of normalcy.

Laurent jumped a little as Damen reached for the laces at his neck.

Damen paused and smiled softly for reassurance. “Little Scholar, your clothes are in disarray. You ought to be thankful; you’re being serviced by the future King of Akielos. Not many can claim such an honor.”

“I’m sure half the men in my palace could claim to be _serviced_ by you.” Laurent replied with his usual barbed wit. But this time it seemed without the usual ferocity he expected.

“And if you listened, I’m sure you’d hear it’s very enjoyable. Now quit antagonizing me.” With clumsy, large fingers Damen went about the annoying task of braiding up the collar of a Veretian shirt.

When the collar was completed, Damen turned his attention to the sleeves.

As he laced up to the wrist, his eyes caught a flash of red-violet on Laurent’s snow-white skin. Confused, Damen pushed the fabric back and Laurent flinched. “Your skin is so fine,” he commented in wonder. “It still has the bruises from…the library?”

How could such bruises last for more than a week? And they were shaped so strangely…Almost like…

Bile, bitter and ugly, rose in Damen’s throat as he cradled Laurent’s tiny wrist in his hand. With his free hand, he wrapped his dark fingers around the wrist, lining them up with the bruised skin. These were finger marks…

Laurent’s lower lip quivered, but the brave boy still refused to cry.

“You---.”

“Auguste told me to stay here.” Laurent interrupted, stopping Damen from saying the horrible truth. “But…I-I am the prince and if my father calls me…I go. Of course…it was only to yell at me for insulting someone. A-and now…everyone will think I was…b-being childish and I forced my brother to…abandon his duty.”

“Auguste will explain---.” Damen began.

“ _And who will believe him_!” Laurent gasped and there was finally abject pain on his face. “My---the person who…” he couldn’t even bring himself to say what had been done, but just motioned to his bruises, “He tells everyone…I’m a _liar_ …no one believes me…”

 _Laurent the Liar_.

With every ounce of control he had, Damen forced his burning anger out of his expression. It was no wonder Auguste was enraged beyond belief.

He didn’t know how to begin to resolve this. But he hated that Laurent was so stiff and distant. Gently, ever so gently, Damen curled his arm around Laurent’s tiny shoulders, curling him in so that his anguished face was crushed against Damen’s broad chest, hidden from view.

In this case Akielon sounded more soothing for Damen than Veretian. It was a low, simple, and straightforward language good for singing and calming. “I believe you. I know you’re not a liar, Little Scholar. I believe you.”

To his credit, Laurent did not let anyone see him crumble. He kept his face hidden in Damen’s chest, shoulders shaking, sobbing softly. Damen petted that fine golden hair, so much like his older brother’s and felt the front of his shirt blooming with warmth and wetness. It must have been such a relief for another person aside from his brother to assure him that he was not a liar. But Laurent refused to let Damen see him cry.

Damen cradled the boy, rocking him back and forth as his mother had done when he was a young child. He hummed wordless melodies…

That was how Auguste came back to them: his dear friend rocking his younger brother as if Laurent was still a baby. Damen looked up in wordless acknowledgment of Auguste’s arrival and continued to hum.

The two men stayed completely silent until Laurent had cried himself out and gone limp with exhausted sleep in Damen’s arms. Despite his venomous tongue and stubborn will, he was still just a little boy.

Damen was so strong he could lift Laurent into the air without waking him, placing him on the bed so Auguste could cover him. He gazed down at his brother lovingly before following Damen into the adjoining bath.

Damen had already begun to slip out of his tear-soiled shirt.

He jumped a little as he felt Auguste’s forehead rest on his bare back. This was hardly the time or place, but Damen’s cock pulsed with the thought of long blond hair and a perfect muscular body…

“Thank you, Damianos…”

Damen had to clutch his chest, his heart was so engulfed with anger. “Tell me what happened.”

The two of them decided to bathe in the warm water in an attempt to soak out some of their anger and Auguste began to tell Damen of the monstrous thing that was hiding in the hallways of Arles.

Auguste ran wet hands through his hair, making it sleek against his head. “Haaaaa…It’s my fault. I should have never left him here alone. What a fool I am…”

“Who has done this to him?”

Auguste looked at Damen and his deep, blue eyes were flat with hatred. “…My uncle. Despite his irritating personality, my brother is undeniably pretty; he has been charming ever since he was a child. And my uncle…has unnatural tastes. He despises women and feels nothing for grown men. Only…” Auguste could not even bring himself to say it out of disgust. “I…caught him before; Laurent was saying some startling things to me and I realized he… _he touched my little brother_!”

Damen tried to remain calm, but it was hard. He too was repulsed by the very thought. “Does your father know?”

“Of course I told him.” Auguste’s eyes were glittering. “My uncle talked himself out of it. He…has a way with words and claimed Laurent made it all up because he was seeking attention; he’s the one who spread the rumor that Laurent is a liar, not that people needed any other reason to slander my brother…”

Things clicked in Damen’s head then.

The reason why Auguste kept Laurent out of sight when they visited his father and uncle…The reason why there were no other boys Laurent’s age in the castle…The reason Auguste had taken precautions with the stableboy…The reason…

“Is that why Laurent sleeps in your quarters every night?”

Auguste put his head in his hands. “I’m…so very afraid. I was afraid he would try to break into Laurent’s chambers…So I insisted he stay with me. I think he understands now that he’s older; unfortunately he cannot be with me at all hours. And…that’s why I am afraid…I am his only protector.”

“You’re not the only one,” Damen put a reassuring hand on Auguste’s tense shoulder. “How long has this been going on?”

“Almost two years now.”

Damen also understood now why Laurent had such a sharp tongue; aside from the fact that people in his court openly scorned him---which must have been a very ostracizing feeling---cruel remarks were probably his only defense against someone who was much stronger and craftier.

“This is why I _cannot_ go to Ios next year.” Auguste practically sobbed. “I simply cannot leave Laurent alone for four months with that…that _monster_! What shall I do? How can I be a good king? How can I protect an entire country if I cannot even save my brother from this fate?”

It was a fine problem.

Having the Crown Princes stay in each others’ capitals was fundamentally important to upholding the peace treaty between the two nations. And though Laurent was obviously not his favorite son, King Aleron would not want both of his sons in Ios in case some calamity were to fall on the city. So Auguste was now torn between his duty as the Crown Prince to strengthen an alliance and the duty of an older brother to protect his younger brother.

Damen mulled it over. “Auguste…did your uncle ever…assault you?”

Auguste smiled sadly. “I almost wish he had; I wish he had taken to me and left Laurent alone…”

Damen stood, looking down at his dear friend. “Don’t worry Auguste. I swear on my own goddamn crown: Laurent will be in Ios with us next year.”

The oath was worth his crown when Auguste smiled up at him. He was so damn handsome… “Thank you Damianos…”

Damen left Auguste’s quarters not long after in order to compose an argument to King Aleron and write a letter to his father, King Theomedes. It would take his mind off the burning desire to kill Vere’s royal uncle that had arisen when he saw the Crown Prince Auguste, nearly sick with worry, enfold his sleeping brother in his arms.

 

In the end it was neither Damen’s men nor Auguste’s faction who slayed the boar, but Lady Vannes with her family’s heirloom crossbow.

However, rumors still swirled about Prince Laurent. Damianos and Auguste did not seem particularly concerned about not winning their wager, and their men were more aware of the loss of face than they were, despite the fact that no one lost their coin on the bet; but, typical young men, they wanted winner amongst their respective princes. And Prince Laurent had denied them of that.

Selfish, they called him. And jealous of his brother. So jealous, in fact, that he would lie in order to make both Crown Princes abandon the hunt and race to his side. He was not on the cusp of death, and anything less could hardly be considered an emergency.

Laurent remained quiet and cowed in the face of his slander.

Damen could not doubt his honesty. To stop the gossip, Laurent could attempt explain the situation to his court, but he was too embarrassed to do so. So instead he braved the lies about him with a deaf ear and much wringing of his hands.

At least he had gained a new protector in Damianos.

Lydos, Pallas, and Aktis had been casting disgruntled glances at the boy during the entirety of the boar feast and it had so incensed Damen that he had dressed them down furiously after dinner. Nikandros looked on with silent understanding. Damen was firm: since they were on a goodwill mission _no one_ was to speak ill of the Prince Laurent.

In the meantime, he would wait for his father’s reply and approval to approach King Aleron over bringing Laurent to Ios next year with Auguste. It would be a while before he would receive a reply from his father.

Auguste had, almost tearfully, embraced Damen over that fact.

“If you do this for me…for my brother…I swear I will be your humble servant as soon as I am king.”

Damen was profoundly uncomfortable at this flowery pronouncement. Also, looking at Auguste’s happily flushed face, Damen was not entirely sure Auguste would _like_ what service Damen would enjoy. “You can start by dealing with these laces every time I get dressed or undressed. “

Auguste laughed in spite of himself. “Naturally.”

Laurent was in, on this day, with a veritable army of seamstresses under the watchful eye of the physician Paschal, so Damen and Auguste were taking a turn in the gardens of Arles, where fountains and fowl could mask their conversation. It had been a week and a half since the catastrophe during the boar hunt. Damen was becoming aware of how little time he had left in Vere and Auguste was becoming tentatively hopeful about his future trip to Akielos.

“I hear the women go…unadorned in the summer.” Auguste’s eyes were sparkling with his normal wickedness, but his cheeks were stained with an unusually innocent blush at the thought.

“Breasts out.” Damen admitted crudely; after spending so much time with the younger prince in the library, Damen was finding his speech to be more boorish. “Normally I would say try not to stare, but since you’re the Crown Prince I feel confident saying most of the women will jump at the idea of you appreciating their bodies.”

“And it’s…alright to…you know, _ask them to bed_?”

Damen had to struggle to keep from laughing at his friend. “You are a handsome, foreign, young prince. _Trust me_ , it’s alright. Just be careful; my countrywomen might eat you alive…two or three at a time.”

Auguste had to stop walking he was laughing so hard. Damen felt a rush of fondness when he realized it was Auguste trying to cover his bashfulness. “I wouldn’t…quite know what to do with myself…”

He clapped his friend on the shoulder. “And I’ll make sure every fourteen year-old boy in the palace is ready at hand to irritate your brother.”

Auguste’s smile took on a sorrowful twist. “I want to go. So much. And I’ll miss you. You sound so assured. Are you sure my father will agree to this?”

“I’m nothing if not optimistic.”

“You promised me.” Auguste looked as though he was trying to force himself to believe it.

Damen looked him right in the eyes. God, his eyes were beautiful. The purest dark blue he had ever seen. “I gave you an oath, my friend. What kind of king would I be if I did not make good on my promises?”

“Do you promise that the Akielon beauties are as sweet as the rumors say?”

“As sweet as I am.” Damen responded dryly.

Auguste laughed.

Laurent was even less optimistic than his brother about Ios. Ever since the hunt, Damen had spent every afternoon in the library protecting---or as Laurent considered, ‘annoying’---the Little Prince. Although Laurent was still fond of engaging Damen in a war of insults, there was less force behind his dislike, and hesitantly he was becoming more open with his thoughts.

Damen was lounging across an entire aisle, his long legs resting on one of the shelves. Laurent was sitting on a stack of books, reading about trade between the tribes of Vask.

“I would not hold your breath.” Laurent said flatly. “My father is…” He bit the tip of his thumb, “stubborn. You could put a thought in his head and he won’t move on from it…”

Damen was beginning to read through Laurent’s layered thoughts; he chose his words _extremely_ carefully and there was usually another meaning behind what he said. What he gleaned from this was that King Aleron’s thoughts were easily swayed by his brother. Which meant Laurent’s uncle would try to finagle a way to make him stay in Arles…

“Laurent, I will convince your father. You must believe me. Just wait until I get the message from my father. You _will_ be in Ios with me next year.”

“I didn’t know you were able to convince a boulder to shift.”

Damen was struck with a deep pain in his heart. This boy could not even trust in his own father to protect him. Though Theomedes was king, he had often told Damen that he and Kastor were dearer to him than his very crown; Laurent probably could not claim the same.

“Why do you doubt me?”

“Because I don’t believe you can do the impossible.” Laurent did not look up as he turned the page.

Damen boiled over. He grabbed Laurent, unthinkingly by the wrist. Laurent dropped his book and recoiled, eyes wide with rational fear. Damen dropped his hand, cold realization replacing his anger.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He raised his hands in a sign of peace. “Just…please believe me. I’m not doing this to impress your brother; you must trust me, I will get you out of here. I won’t let him touch you again. I’ll convince your father. I’ll kidnap you if I must. But Laurent I…I’ll get you out of here, I swear it.”

Laurent clutched his wrist to his chest, looking truly shaken. “I want to believe you. But I can’t. How can I trust someone who promises me the impossible?”

Damen gazed at him. He had always felt it was his duty as royalty and as a large, strong man to protect people weaker than him. It was not in his repertoire to feel helpless.

“Because I’m the future King of Akielos. And I hate to lose.”

 

Theomedes did not let his son down.

His reply came by courier in Damen’s last month in Arles. He was feeling the slip of time acutely; every day with Auguste was preciously spent in sport and conversation, and his afternoons he attempted to soften the Little Scholar to him. But the issue of the next year’s arrangements hung as tangible as a blade above all three princes. Damen had become more thoughtful in his last few weeks, people startling him out of his glassy-eyed reveries. Auguste laughed less and less with each passing day, his smile brittle, cheerfulness cracking. Laurent looked mostly unchanged, but a practiced eye could note the subtle whitening of his already pale face and the desperate way he wrung his hands on his lap.

It was late in the morning and pleasantly warm when the courier from Akielos arrived. Damen, Auguste, and their men were having a competition to see who could hold a 20 pound weight aloft the longest, while Laurent pointedly ignored them with a book, protecting his skin in the shade of an old oak tree.

A pet in a very short skirt sauntered into the training area, attracting as much attention as chilled glass of wine. He knew he commanded their attention, and held aloft a cream-white envelope between his matching fingers.

“My Lord, Damianos,” He called, gazing with appreciation on Damen’s muscular arms. “This is for you.”

Damen raised one eyebrow at Auguste, who stood across from him.

“If you fetch that letter and drop your weight, you forfeit.” Auguste pronounced.

The pet twisted his lips prettily, looking at the sea of stubborn men before him. “It’s a reply from your father, the King Theomedes…”

Instantaneously, Auguste and Damen dropped their weights to the chagrin of their betting men. Uncaring, the two of them hurried up to the pet, who was relishing the attention he was receiving. He looked up through his eyelashes coquettishly as Damen extended his hand.

“Do I get a reward for my delivery service?” Usually pets did not do such menial tasks, but the thought of getting to do something important for Prince Damianos must have made letter-delivery sound _very_ appealing. “A kiss?”

Damen sighed. “Pretty boy, later today I will kiss you _wherever_ you wish, if you’ll hand that to me.”

The boy beamed at the thought and flicked it over carelessly. He bit his lip charmingly and strutted off, the low-hanging curve of his ass quivering from underneath his skimpy skirt…

Damen literally shook his head as dog might to clear his lust-charged thoughts and focus on the task at hand. Auguste put his entire clenched fist against his mouth out of nervousness, as Damen tore open the wax seal and began to read. The text was in Akielon, so it took him a few moment’s to translate aloud in Veretian:

            ‘ _My pride, Damianos,_

 _I know in my heart you are a service to your country and I have missed your presence_ _in Ios these months. I received your letter and I sense your great concern for the young Prince of Vere; I will not inquire as to the circumstances that warrant such a plea, but I assure you that they fall not on deaf ears. My stance is to your benefit: I have no qualms about housing the young Prince as             well as his elder brother, the Crown Prince, for four months in our main home of Ios as well as our summer palace in Isthima. However, the decision comes not from my approval, but from that of His Majesty, King Aleron. His son may stay at His Majesty’s own leisure; I beg you do not do anything drastic, for I know your hasty mind._

_I await your return, my beloved son._

_Theomedes.’_

Auguste held on to Damen’s shoulder, weak-kneed with relief. Damen rested his own dark head against that sleek expanse of blond. His heart was pulsing with relief; gods bless his father…

“We must speak to my father immediately.” Auguste said, his eyes burning with hope.

Damen nodded. “Bathe first and then we ask him.”

The two of them cleaned without their usual carefree attitude and dressed in their most impressive garb to present their case to king Aleron. Hopefully, his fondness for Damen, his love for his eldest son, and his alliance with the king of Akielos would help to sway his decision. He did look pleased to see the two of them as they entered his study. Damen clenched his fist when he saw that Laurent’s uncle was present as well, looking wholly at ease; he could barely speak to the man anymore without wanting to stain the marble floors with his blood. August must have impressive restraint to remain so calm with his brother’s molester.

“Father,” Auguste lowered his head for the king’s blessing. “I---we must speak with you immediately.” Auguste’s urgency must have been noted, for his father bade him to continue. “We must…speak alone. It has to do with Damianos.”

His uncle surveyed Auguste with a reptilian gaze.

Auguste did not mention Laurent in order to avoid suspicion; but it was unnatural of him to be so forceful about privacy. His uncle’s interest was piqued. However, he followed his king’s bidding and left the room when he was asked directly.

Aleron took a seat. “Now…what is it that you must speak to me about?”

Auguste squared his shoulders and bowed his head low in supplication. “Father, I try to honor you with all that I do. I put the interests of Vere before my own; I aspire to be a fair and just king; all I do, I do so that Vere may be a peaceful and prosperous land. I have…tried to avoid making selfish requests. But today I ask you---no, I _beg_ you, father: please grant me this one thing.”

Damen was astonished by his eloquence, touched by the lengths he would to beg for his brother’s safety. His heart throbbed with feeling for Auguste…

King Aleron looked shocked that his normally selfless and confident son would prostrate himself so. “Name it my son. I will do my duty as your father and try to fulfill your request…”

Auguste looked up and his eyes blazed.

“Let Laurent come with me to Ios next year.”

King Aleron could not hide the flash of annoyance and anger that gripped his features before he pinched the bridge of his nose. “My _god_ , Auguste…do you still believe these _accusations_ \---.”

Damen braced himself, feeling the rolling waves of anger that came from Auguste. “FATHER. This is my request. I come forward with no accusations. Only an honest plea. I beg of you: _let Laurent come to Ios_.”

“If I say no?”

“Then I’ll not go either.”

King Aleron looked nearly apoplectic with rage. “ _You would squander our peace treaty in the name of your brat of a younger brother?”_

It was like watching two lions square off in a fight.

“You would break your word to me?” Auguste replied in a voice like ice and King Aleron flinched. “I have made my decision. I’ll not go to Ios without Laurent. I’ll give up the peace treaty; there will be others. I only have one brother and as Crown Prince, I’d give up my wealth, my crown, _my very life for him_. He is more precious to me than any of those things.” Damen knew it was not a bluff. He had seen Auguste throw aside his pride, his weaponry, his sanity as if they were dirt for the sake of Laurent.

“Am I to send both of my sons to a foreign land? What if something were to befall you both?”

Auguste looked as witty and wicked as his younger brother for a moment. “You are still young yet, father. And if anything, Uncle could always sire a child.” His comment was sarcastic and sharp and Damen covered his mouth to hide his smile. The King and Auguste and Damen all knew there was no chance of that.

“King Theomedes may be opposed.”

“Damianos, if you would.” Auguste’s voice was light with the smell of victory.

Damen bowed before King Aleron. “I wrote to my father some months ago to ask for his permission in this issue. His reply came to me this very afternoon.” And then Damen relayed his father’s blessing.

King Aleron was annoyed but was beginning to look exhausted from arguing with his crafty son. “So I am forced to choose: letting my eldest son break the agreement of our two nations, or allowing my youngest to infuriate the Akielons into war?”

Auguste’s hands were fists and his head was no longer bowed. He was going to make an intimidating and confident king. “I have made my case. You told me you would fulfill my request and I have made it. My one selfishness: Laurent must come to Akielos.”

With a finality that showcased his resolve, Auguste did not ask his father’s leave, but turned on his heel and left. Damen followed after him with a short bow.

Auguste thundered down the hallways of Arles in silence, with Damen faithfully trotting behind him. Auguste seemed to have cooled slightly, as his fists had unfurled but Damen could not see his face. When they entered his quarters, Laurent was already waiting, trying his best appear bored.

As soon as Damen closed the oak doors behind him, he felt Auguste’s head rest against his back, hands pressed flat against his shoulders.

“Auguste?” Laurent sounded uncharacteristically worried.

“Haaaa…did I do alright?” Auguste breathed in obvious relief. “I’ve not asked my father for much since I was a boy. And now I have forced his hand. Thank you, Damianos…I think…without you and your father, I would not have found the strength.”

Damen turned and Auguste, his dear friend, was embracing him in thanks.

“What has happened?” Laurent’s voice was chilly, either with fear or jealousy. Damen could not tell the difference in this exact moment.

Damen’s voice came out unintentionally breathy, so delighted was he at their victory, at his friend’s clever play, at the embrace. “Your brother and I can convince a boulder to shift,” Laurent’s eyes grew wide with an amusing mix of confusion and hope. “Little Scholar, I hope you will enjoy the library in Ios.”

 

Damianos gripped the reins of his black horse, once again wearing his Akielon clothing. It felt so light and open in comparison to Veretian riding clothes, but at the same time he felt so very _exposed_ in the clothes of his homeland. Four months, come and gone. Ever loyal, Nikandros, Pallas, Aktis, and Lydos fell in behind him, all of them looking sorrowful to depart.

Even more somber was the veritable phalanx of soldiers, noblemen, and pets who knew that it would be almost two years before they would be able to bed the skillful Prince of Akielos again. All the friends they had made from their time in Arles were grouped outside in the main courtyard to bid farewell; haughty Lady Vannes waved from her place behind the balustrades, Jord, Orlant, and Lazar saluted Damen and his men from where they stood with the other soldiers, and Paschal softly wished them a safe and swift journey home.

Damianos had already thanked everyone for his memorable stay, bowing low over the hand of King Aleron and holding himself back from beating the shit out Auguste’s uncle.

Only two people, the ones he wanted to see most, had yet to appear.

He had spent his last night in Arles in Auguste’s quarters. He and Auguste had shared an entire bottle of wine, talking late into the night, even after Laurent could stay awake no longer. He was precious and innocent when he was asleep, but Auguste was the one Damen would miss most…

He saw the twin flashes of gold in the crowd and released his horse.

In a few quick strides, he was abreast of Auguste and the two embraced quickly. “You’ll write me, won’t you?” Auguste asked. “Eight months is too long…”

“Of course,” Damen replied, drinking in that handsome face, committing it to memory before he left. “And if anything, _anything_ happens…I’ll ride to Arles the moment I receive word.”

Auguste looked choked with emotion. “Thank you…Thank you Damianos…for _everything_.”

Damen smiled, leaning his warm forehead against Auguste’s in a movement of small intimacy. He closed his eyes relishing in the feeling until his men called his name, cutting through the feeling.

“A moment!” Damen called before kneeling down to Laurent’s level. He quirked his eyebrow up. “What’s this? Do I get a hug from you too, brat?”

Laurent’s expression was cold. “I like my spine intact, thank you.”

“Will you miss me?”

“No.”

“Will you write me?”

“…No.”

Damen smiled and whispered low so that only he and Auguste could hear. “Are you lying?”

Laurent’s cheeks flushed pink. “…Yes…”

Very, very gently, Damen pressed a brotherly kiss on Laurent’s smooth forehead. “I’ll miss you, Little Scholar. I’ll see you in Ios in eight months.” Those matching blue eyes, filled with hope from both brothers, were the things burned into Damen’s brain as he rode out of the gates of Arles…


	4. Year 14 (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of 1010 hits and 110 kudos (lots of 10s) I'm uploading a new chapter today and it's our first year in Akielos! Thank you all for your lovely comments and kudos, especially the readers who return for each chapter :) You guys are what make me finish chapters so quickly. I hope you enjoy!

** Akielos: Year 14 (Part 1) **

Damianos was in a rush, his sashes billowing out behind him like the sails of ship. He expertly dodged the open marble corridors of the palace in Ios, servants hastily bowing to him as they carried out their duties. All through the halls, the palace was in a veritable uproar.

Servants were airing out every linen in the possession of the king while even more servants and lowly soldiers carted everything from fine vases of flowers and baskets of oranges to crates of wine and bundles of straw. There seemed to be an endless supply of them, and they all bowed low in the presence of their Prince. Damen, for all the amiability he showed on the surface, felt as restless as a lion in an iron cage. His mind was a mantra: ‘ _Auguste is coming…Auguste is coming…_ The excitement was palpable in Ios.

He had gone down on his knees to his father, begging to go meet the Veretian envoy at the border. But the honor had gone to Makedon, as Damen had to stay in Ios for the benefit of the kyroi delegation. So now he paced…

Eight months had come and gone, with a steady correspondence between himself and the two princes of Vere.

Even now a bundle of carefully preserved papers, tied with a ribbon, rested in safety in the bottom of the cedar chest that sat at the foot of his bed. Auguste had sent him veritable novels; stacks and stacks of paper had been sent across the borders, written with Auguste’s trademark zeal. Laurent’s letters had been more beautiful, in both language and penmanship, but his thoughts had been brief. There was a marked concern in both of their tones as the departure day approached. Both were worried that King Aleron would change his mind and not allow Laurent to come with his brother.

Today was judgment day.

A great shout echoed from the walls outside of the palace and Damen broke into a run, his heart rattling in a disjointed pulse against his ribcage. Gods help him, both princes had better ride through those gates or he would saddle his own horse and ride back to Arles.

His brother Kastor was waiting by the entrance, resplendent and spotless, as was his father, but Damen ran past them, uncaring about his appearance.

There was a bright glimmer of gold and Damen opened his arms, bracing himself for the weight that hit him. There was a familiar smell of the halls of Arles: rosewater and wine and verdant gardens. The sleek golden horse pawed the unfamiliar ground next to its’ master. Damen pulled back to gaze into Auguste’s delighted blue eyes.

“My friend…” Damen sighed.

Auguste looked so odd in his surroundings in the rigid red and gold Veretian brocade; Damen could not wait to get him into an Akielon tunic. But Auguste seemed not to care, only focused on studying Damen’s face.

“You’ve gotten taller,” Auguste remarked with a laugh. And it was true; in Arles they had been about the same height but now Damen was a half a head taller than his blond friend.

“You---.” He was about to make a witty comment in reply, but realization struck him like cold water. “ _Laurent_. Is he---?”

Auguste looked behind him, relief saturating his handsome features, and Damen followed his gaze. The mount was not golden by any stretch of the imagination, but it was pretty, sweet, and white, and the rider had an elegant seat. Flanked on both sides by his own and Makedon’s men, was the cool and unflappable form of Prince Laurent of Vere. Damen beamed at the poisonous little boy.

He seemed bored at the sight of Damen, but when he dismounted and was crushed in Damen’s tanned embrace, the very tips of his white ears turned pink.

He was beginning to show the very faintest signs of becoming a gangly youth, his legs and arms slightly longer than the previous year; Damen lifted him full into the air so his lips were by those burning ears.

“I told you, Little Scholar: I don’t lose. Welcome to Ios.”

It was with a chest swelling with delight that Damen led the two golden princes of Vere to meet his father and older brother. To throw off sharp little Laurent, Damen roughly ruffled his corn-silk hair.

Auguste bowed in the presence of King Theomedes before the two men embraced in friendship. “Your Highness,” his father’s voice was deep and gravelly, booming with welcome, “I welcome you and your brother to my palace in Ios.” He extended the same greeting to Laurent who remained, surprisingly, civil.

Kastor’s reaction was decidedly less diplomatic.

Damen’s older brother was a lover of fine and beautiful things; he enjoyed being surrounded by luxurious furniture and hangings and all of his male and female companions were some of the finest in the four kingdoms. This was fine for a royal stud (to put things _very_ bluntly) but not so much for a king who wished to retain some semblance of a royal treasury. Which was why Damen was to become king instead.

Kastor stared with wide-eyed wonder at the two brothers, but particularly Laurent.

If Laurent and Auguste had been born in Akielos to anyone less than a nobleman, they would have been scouted immediately to be trained as the Akielon version of pets. Their coloring was so fine and their faces so delicate that no doubt they would have entered into Kastor’s own household.

He had forgotten to shield his expression and was gazing at the two of them, drunk on their looks.

Auguste was oblivious, but Laurent was more used to the feeling of being watched. After providing his greetings to Kastor, the little boy stepped deftly out of sight behind Damen’s form. Damen tried not to show his annoyance at his elder brother.

“My son will show you to your quarters.” Theomedes replied, reminiscent of Damen’s first days in Arles. “Rest accordingly and we will have dinner when the sun has set.”

Kastor took one last hungry glance at the two brothers before he too left with his father.

Then Damen, in all his giddy pleasure, could race with Auguste to privacy, Laurent trailing at their heels, but, once again, unwilling to ask them to wait for him. Auguste and Laurent had been given the rooms facing the sea, very close to the Spartan ones Damen himself inhabited. They were minimally decorated, but had a beautiful balcony, adjoining private baths, and a fine large bed, which could easily accommodate eight full-grown men.

“My god!” Auguste laughed throwing himself on the bed. “This heat! I don’t know how you can stand it!”

“I’ve had Akielon garments made for the both of you.”

Auguste and Laurent took him in: almost bare-chested, his tunic’s skirt barely brushing the knee, arms bare…

“You look like a whore.” Laurent remarked smoothly.

“Laurent, we have to.” Auguste chided him. “It is a sign of goodwill and I’ll not have you ride all the way to Ios just to die of a heatstroke.” Laurent looked Damen up and down again, but appeared resigned to follow his brother’s orders.

“We have much time until sunset,” Damen asked, “is there anything you require? It must have been an exhausting ride. 3 days in the saddle with Laurent for commentary?” Laurent’s eyes glittered at the challenge. “ _Exhausting_.”

“I would like a bath…” Auguste murmured, looking out longingly at the sea.

“You promised me a library,” Laurent countered, attempting to look disinterested. Damen caught the flash of desire in his eyes. Damen resisted the urge to ruffle his hair again.

“Very well, Auguste, as much as I would love to catch up with you, I’m sure I can find someone more…appropriate to help you bathe.” Auguste had to cover his mouth to hide his grin. “In the meantime, I will show your brother to the library; you have an hour at most.”

While he waited for Laurent to change into his new Akielon tunic, Damen hailed a servant and delivered a long string of instructions: he needed a selection of female slaves, who must be virgins, with no Veretian coloring and a diverse array of body types to be sent to the Prince of Vere’s quarters. After making sure the servant could repeat the criteria backwards and forwards, Damen went off to collect Laurent and show him the library.

The current selection had been Damen’s own order, to which Auguste owned a match: a dark blue cotton tunic tied at the waist with a gold chain and layered over another skirt of pale gold. It complimented their complexions.

Quickly, Damen escorted young Laurent off before his brother’s ladies arrived.

“How did you find the trip to my home?” Damen asked, as the two stepped casually through the marble halls. Things had settled down considerably since the Princes had arrived, and servants made themselves scarce.

Laurent gave a small, intimate smile. “Especially victorious, considering the state I left Arles in.”

“Did you burn it down?” Damen asked with a laugh.

Laurent twisted his hands in his Akielon skirt. “We were…worried. My father seemed to be going through a change of heart in my last few weeks there. So I was aggressively myself to everyone in court.”

“I’m amazed they didn’t chase you out of the gates with swords drawn.”

“I’m sure my father was pleased to see me leave. As always…”

Damen did not like the turn the conversation had taken, and was all too relieved to arrive at the entrance of the library. Laurent was exceptionally good at hiding his emotions, but even he could not shield his face from the utter delight that took over his expression.

The library at Ios was a circular marble room, two stories tall with a large stained glass skylight to let in the natural glow of the sun. Unlike the library at Vere, which was narrow, empty, and filled with labyrinthine shelves, the library in Ios bustled with activity and the shelves were pressed tight against the walls to provide plenty of space for scholars to lounge and read. To Laurent, it must have looked like heaven.

“What do you think, Little Scholar?” Damen’s heart swelled at his expression. When this kid was around, he wished he had a little brother---albeit a slightly less prickly one---to spoil.

“It’s…It’s…”

“Ah, Isander!” Damen hailed the leggy little boy over. Isander to the benefit of his beauty might one day become a pet to someone of high rank in Akielos, but at thirteen he worked as a bookkeeper in the sprawling library. Over the past eight months, Damen had located every bookish boy in Ios to staff the library in preparation for Laurent. “If you would be so kind, this is Laurent, the Prince of Vere.”

Isander dropped the books in his hasty attempt to bow to both princes. “Y-Your majesty! This librarian is…humbled by your attention.”

Damen felt like laughing aloud. Isander was shaky and exuberant at the thought of holding the attention of two princes, while Laurent was stiff and uncomfortable around another boy his own age.

“Isander, I want you to show Prince Laurent every inch of this library. Introduce him to the other bookkeepers like you and help him find any book or manuscript he desires. He can speak and read Akielon, so do not worry about finding a Veretian copy.”

“Of course, Exalted One.”

“Start with the book I have left aside.”

“Yes, Exalted One.”

Isander scurried off after collecting his dropped books and Laurent shied a little as a small group of boys his age---the other bookkeepers, no doubt---stopped what they were doing to gaze at him. Damen patted his shoulder, starting a little as he felt bare skin; he had forgotten Laurent was dressed like an Akielon.

“All right Little Scholar. My library is at your disposal as well as all the people in it.”

He knew Laurent didn’t have any friends his own age and was determined to change that. But Laurent seemed so hesitant.

“Alone?” He murmured almost too soft to hear.

Damen was struck. He remembered now that Laurent was not used to doing anything alone, that he must always trail after Auguste to be safe. The threat that hung over him in Arles was gone in Ios…

Damen leaned down so that no one else could possibly hear what he was saying. “Laurent. This is _my_ home. Next to my father, the king, I am the highest authority. If anyone, _anyone_ , touches you or speaks to you crudely, I swear I will cut off that person’s hands. You are my guest. You are safe.” When he pulled back, he smiled reassuringly at the young boy.

Laurent’s face did not seem to change, but Damen saw relief wash over his posture.

Isander arrived only a moment later to present Laurent with a book and bow. Laurent took it, studying the battered thing in confusion.

“Watch your wicked tongue, Prince Laurent.” Damen said upon his retreat. “These boys will do what any others will if you insult them: beat your ass.” It was all bluff; these children would never raise a hand to the foreign prince.

“What about the book?”

“Akielon folk tales, my favorite. I told you I had one like yours.”

Damen had intended to go relax in his own tub before returning to chat with Auguste, but as he was walking to his own room, he caught sight of a female form waiting in confusion outside of Prince Auguste’s quarters.

She must be one of the slaves he had called for.

“Exalted One,” She jumped at his approach and bowed before him.

Trying to figure out Auguste’s tastes, he surveyed the woman. She was slim and lean, more athletic in shape, with olive skin and mahogany-brown hair. From the outset, she appeared to be as normal as any woman in Ios, but when she looked up…Her eyes were the palest green he had ever seen.

Damen forgot his thoughts for a moment gazing into her eyes.

“Ah…yes…I am…” He shook his head at the idiotic response. “Are you not the one who was to serve the Prince of Vere in his bath?”

She nodded. “Yes. He…dismissed me from service, Exalted One.”

“I…I see. Then you are free to return to your quarters.”

She wandered off, looking highly confused by the entire exchange, and Damen took the liberty of entering Auguste’s rooms. He had some questions he wanted answered.

The smell of flowers was almost overwhelming in the large bathing chamber and Damen was arrested for a moment by the sight of Auguste’s bare body soaking in the tub. One of Auguste’s eyes opened to stare at his friend.

“Come back early to join in?”

Damen smiled in disbelief. “Join in what? You pleasuring yourself alone in the tub?” Auguste laughed despite his deep blush. “Were none of the women to your liking? Did you even fuck her?”

Auguste smiled and bit his lip. “Umm…no…I didn’t.”

Damen was shocked. He and Auguste had talked often of Auguste’s singular preference for women and the limitations Veretian custom imposed on him. “Why not? She was a lovely young woman and it would have been her First Night. I wouldn’t offer a visiting prince anything less.”

Auguste closed his eyes and repeated a familiar Akielon adage. “Two virgins in a bed is one too many.”

“Exactly! I---.” And then it hit him.

“Damianos!” Auguste threw an entire bundle of towels at his friend. “Don’t you _dare_ laugh!” It was too late as Damen was already bent double, shaking with shocked laughter; Auguste could not help himself and was also laughing a little. “Why are you laughing?”

“You’re a handsome, young prince!” Damen wheezed. “ _Never_? No men? No brothel? Nothing?!”

“My father would _kill_ me if he heard I went to…a house of ill-repute.” Auguste countered. “Don’t just stand there. Get in and we can talk.” Damen, still shaking with laughter, needed no further invitation and stripped off his tunic.

It was nostalgic, bathing with Auguste.

“You know how much Vere hates bastards.” Auguste began to defend himself as soon as Damen lowered himself into the water. “I cannot simply bed a woman as I like. And as the Crown Prince I hardly have the privacy to sneak away to a brothel. I’d be recognized immediately.” Damen nodded.

His golden hair, courtly manors, and impressive persona would be more than enough to give him away. He would pay a hefty sum at any whorehouse in Vere, not to mention setting tongues to wagging.

“You’ve mentioned that you only show a slight preference for women, that you like pleasuring men and women about equally. I tried…once, with a man. And I found it…not _distasteful_ , but not to my enjoyment. I don’t know…how to broach such a topic.”

“So you would prefer a more… _experienced_ lady in the future?” Damen hinted.

Auguste raised one eyebrow. “I can’t have it be said by the virgins of Ios that the Prince of Vere is a mediocre lover. Many of the young men in my court still lament your absence.”

“All it takes is practice.” Damen replied. “Lots and _lots_ of practice.”

 

King Theomedes had outdone himself with dinner.

There was a great ox that had been butchered for the occasion, several whole lambs out on platters, and great heaps of seafood caught that very morning from the sea, ensuring freshness. There were bowls of yogurts and salads and fruits, flatbreads and hummus, and of course, endless bottles of wine. The court of Ios rarely saw such a feast, as it was reserved only for holidays and visiting guests. Usually dinner in Akielos was a private affair taken in a person’s own quarters.

Crown Prince Damianos appeared with Crown Prince Auguste at his elbow, both clean and resplendent in crisp white and gold tunics. Everyone perked up at the sight of the two handsome young men. Their heads were close in intimate conversation, a fetching pair in opposing colors of gold and cream and black and tan.

In reality, Damen was just preparing Auguste for the intrigues of his own court.

“Here in Ios, the slaves are not as brazen. You have to be more discreet with them, so just tap them on the shoulder if you see one you like. Just avoid the ones with sapphire pendants, like Jokaste over there; those are Kastor’s lovers and he’ll not take kindly to your flirtations.”

Auguste followed Damen’s gaze to the woman who could have easily been his sister with her coloring. She was also heavily pregnant.

Damen and Auguste made their rounds of greetings, Damen thrilled to see the familiar faces of Jord, Orlant, and Lazar. Auguste greeted Damen’s men with equal delight. While they were still talking, Damen made a quick scan of the room to search for the smaller blond head.

Laurent was looking mildly uncomfortable. He was sat amongst a veritable sea of boisterous young boys who seemed dead intent on getting the young prince to engage them in conversation. At least they were treating him kindly.

Auguste and Damen approached the royal table, where the King, Kastor, Jokaste, and several generals sat waiting on the finest cuts of meat and the first cups of wine. Damen settled in between his friend and his brother. Kastor had the habit of being a little too free with his opinions after a few glasses of wine, and Damen wanted to shield Auguste from that.

Well, except for that night…

While Auguste was pleasantly conversing with Theomedes and Makedon, Kastor leaned over close to Damen, stroking his beard as he always did when he wanted something for himself.

“Damianos, brother. I hear Auguste turned away all the beauties you presented to him earlier.”

Damen raised both of his eyebrows at Kastor’s lack of tact. It was hardly wise to talk about someone when they were _sitting right next to you_. “Word travels quickly in this palace. He’s a prince, very discerning. I’m sure he’ll only settle for our best,” he refused to tell Kastor that Auguste was a virgin.

“He is the golden prince of Vere. Will he---?”

Damen knew what was coming; Kastor liked beauty, and though he preferred women on whole, there were two or three men in his harem as well. Damen refused to entertain his fantasy. “He’ll not sleep with you Kastor. He only likes women.”

Kastor looked visibly deflated for all of ten seconds. But then, as he accepted a plate of herring from a serving boy, his eyes lit up again.

“Do you think…perhaps in three or four years…the _younger_ \---.”

Kastor did not finish his thought. Damen did not let him.

Instead, he gripped his brother’s wrist to make sure he got Kastor’s undivided attention. “You listen to me, Kastor. You have dozens of people in your harem; father and I have denied you nothing. However, I swear to you, with all that I have,” He lowered his voice to a whisper, “if you attempt to court Prince Laurent, if you approach him during his time here, _gods forbid_ if you touch him, I will make your life miserable. _Do you understand_?”

Kastor pulled his wrist away, looking as petulant as a sulking child. “You need only have said that you want him…”

Damen had to fight to keep from rolling his eyes. Kastor was a simple man and he would not understand that Damen did not lay claim to people. He could not imagine that Laurent, a prince in his own right, could have a say in his future lovers.

Luckily this outburst from Damen kept Kastor silent for most of the rest of the evening.

In the meantime, Damen scanned the crowd looking for a woman that he knew for a fact was…experienced. But he was still unsure of Auguste’s type. So, over snow crabs and stuffed scallops, Damen began to press Auguste for information.

“So…I’m trying to find you someone you might like. What’s your poison Prince Auguste? Or have you given no thought to that as well?”

Auguste had had quite a bit to drink by that point in the evening, and his smile was positively devious. “It’s…hard to explain. I like…unusual features. _Unique_ features.”

“Like a third tit?” Damen offered.

“No! God no… Like…You remember the girl from earlier? Her eyes…they were piercing. They didn’t match her dark coloring. Like that. Or…a woman with different colored eyes. Or one with freckles everywhere. I like one who…is _different_. Not attempting to be perfect, I think. ” Discerning tastes indeed. “Do you have anyone like that?”

“Give me a moment…”

 

A few hours later, Damen staggered off to bed, feeling the effects of all the wine and food.

The victory was his at least; he had found a woman to satisfy Auguste’s deliberate tastes. She was indeed not a virgin and bore long whip scars up and down her back from where she had been enslaved in her childhood. Damen had indeed felt warm with happiness as the girl beamed; it was rare that someone not only accepted her scars, but considered them beautiful. And from a Crown Prince, no less. It helped Damen deal with his twinge of jealousy.

So he wandered to his room alone, determined to sleep off his wine before the next days’ activities.

Some servant had been kind enough to light the lamps in his rooms and the ocean breeze from the open windows was sobering. Somewhere in the palace…Auguste was losing his virginity…to someone other than Damen. He sighed. It really was a shame, but he couldn’t force the man to be attracted to him.

Fumbling slightly, Damen unlaced his sandals and unclasped his tunic, letting it flow to the floor, leaving him naked.

Some servant would put his discarded clothes away in the morning.

Yawning, Damen stretched getting into bed, relishing the feeling of silk sheets caressing his bare skin. He stretched out to his full length, turned to the left and…met a pair of wide blue eyes.

Damen shrieked, hurling himself backwards and falling completely off the bed.

There was a small gasp and then a sound rarer than the call of a phoenix: Laurent’s laughter. Damen sat up, shocked and confused, but unable to be angry. Laurent was positively rocking with laughter on Damen’s bed.

“What the hell?! Laurent, what are you doing in my room? What are you doing in my _bed_?”

Laurent wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. “Ha ha! You looked ridiculous…Why do you think I’m here? My brother is losing his virginity at this very moment; do you honestly expect me to share a bed with them? I didn’t know that was the way things are consummated in Akielos.”

“They’re not---.”

“Or maybe you want me to sleep outside the door until they are done? I thank you, you are a most gracious host.”

“Will you be quiet for ten seconds?” Damen gripped his temples attempting to comprehend Laurent’s lightning-fast wit. “God I’m drunk. I can’t respond to your sarcasm right now.”

Laurent perched on the edge of the bed, staring down at Damen.

“I’m sorry.” He didn't sound sorry. “I’m so used to sleeping with Auguste…I can’t really sleep when I’m alone.”

“Fine, fine. I got it.”

Damen got up, rubbing his throbbing head as he went to retrieve a nightshirt. “How did you like Isander? And the other librarians?”

“They make me uncomfortable.” Laurent said bluntly.

“Good. Now you know how I feel whenever I have to argue with you.”

Laurent cocked his head in a way that might have been adorable coming from any other child. “Are you in the habit of sleeping in the nude?”

“If you ask me one more goddamn question I’ll make you sleep on the balcony.”

Laurent grinned again at Damen’s useless threat and moved over to make room for him in the bed. Damen had put on a flimsy nightshirt and settled into bed once again. He was duly aware Laurent was staring at him.

“Can I ask you another question?”

Damen groaned and tossed a pillow at Laurent’s face. “I assume you’ll ask even if I say no. Go ahead…”

“In the library…the boys, in Akielon, they…they keep calling me Snow Prince. What is it?”

Damen grinned and stretched out his arm to ruffle the boy’s hair. “It’s not mean I promise. It’s a tale from that book I lent you. Did you read it?” Laurent shook his head silently, waiting for the story; Damen imagined Auguste telling stories to Laurent when nightmares woke him. “You have to read it, I’m no storyteller. But…basically there’s a prince who lives in the snow and he looks like you: white skin and blue eyes. That's why they call you that.”

“Tell me the story.” Laurent demanded.

“Ughhh I’m drunk, goddamn it. Ok, so there’s another land where the Sun King lives and one of his soldiers falls in love with the Snow Prince who lives in the cold mountain snow. He kidnaps the Prince and has to keep him in the dungeon because it’s the only place he can live on the sun without melting; both of them are miserable. The Prince is trapped and the soldier can’t kiss the one he loves without melting him. So…” Damen yawned feeling himself fall asleep. “The soldier lets the Prince go.”

“That’s it?” Laurent asked sounding vaguely concerned. “They don’t stay together?”

“No.” Damen murmured sleepily, flicking Laurent on the forehead. “That’s the whole point. If you love someone, you don’t want them to hurt. You make sacrifices…”

“It’s so sad.”

“They’re just saying you _look_ like him, not that your life will mirror it…”

“Are you going to sleep now?” Laurent snuggled deep into the pillows and blankets. It really was the only time he was an adorable child.

“If you’re quiet. So no.” Damen yawned and felt his lie as he began to nod off. “Sleep well, Snowy Laurent. You’re…safe here…”

 


	5. Year 14 (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! I'm so glad so many of you liked my last chapter! I dearly love coming up with witty comebacks for our Laurent and in this part he is remarkably devilish. I also apologize in advance for the last parts in this chapter; it's very bittersweet at the end but...that's kind of what makes a slow-burn story satisfying ;) Enjoy!

** Akielos: Year 14 (Part 2) **

Damen had thought it was going to be a one-time affair. He thought that being startled awake by realizing the person next to him was _not_ a lover tangled in bedsheets, but the prickly Laurent was a singular occasion. He had not planned to be kicked in the back and have his blankets stolen for more than one night in a row. But then he had miscalculated just how similar he and Auguste were.

After his first taste of a woman, Auguste had become nearly insatiable.

Damen could hardly blame him. He had no room to judge as his first year of making love he too was a whirling dervish of lust, leaving a string of flattered but half-pleasured men and women in his wake. Auguste was attempting to hone his craft and any young woman with an unusual trait was more than pleased to throw herself at his feet.

Unfortunately for Damen, he had to make some sacrifices for his friend. Laurent slept in his room nearly every night. He was a most impolite bedmate.

For starters, his childish fear of the dark had yet to wane and once or twice he had awoken from a dead sleep to find the oil lamps burnt out; it fell on bleary Damen to stumble around for a flint and relight them.

He also mumbled in his sleep, mostly what sounded like a slur of facts and figures and cargoes from the books he had been reading. Laurent spent most of his waking hours in the library at Ios, seeming intent to devour every last shelf.

Most concerning were when he had nightmares. He would shake Damen awake with quivering hands, his eyes darting around to the shadows in the room as if there was something sinister hiding there. He was not very forthcoming about many of the dreams, but one recurring nightmare made him cry in his sleep: where Auguste was dying somewhere. Damen felt like a nursemaid during these times, as he would scoop up the shuddering child and rock them both back to sleep.

Damen was so groggy in the morning, Auguste had taken to being apologetic over breakfast…after Laurent had left for the library of course.

The morning they were to leave for the summer palace of Isthima, three weeks into their stay, Auguste was pleading for leniency over a bowl of yogurt. “I’m so sorry he kicked you in the balls last night.”

Damen was not amused.

The two were sitting out on Auguste’s private balcony over a spread of yogurt, fruit, and pita bread with salmon and hummus. In the meantime, servants were busy at work carting off his things to load onto the royal ships in the harbor at Ios. They sailed for Isthima at midday.

“Well, I’m not having sex these days, so I suppose it won’t hinder me. And I’d rather get kicked than have him tortured by nightmares.”

Auguste’s good humor darkened. “I wish I could take that from him…”

Damen backpedaled. “I doubt it would reflect well on your love life if you kicked women between the legs in your sleep.” Auguste laughed in spite of himself. “Hopefully he’ll be too exhausted to even move for the next month or so. We’ll be so busy in the summer palace I would bet a gold coin he’ll not dream the entire time we’re there.”

Auguste’s eyes glittered with the challenge and extended his hand across their half-eaten spread to seal the bet. “I’ll take you up on that. I’ve known him fourteen years.”

“And in those fourteen years, have you ever seen him use a muscle for anything other than turning page or delivering a tongue lashing?” Damen raised one eyebrow and Auguste narrowed his eyes in contemplation. “And speaking of exercise…the palace is… _limited_ in regards to space, so if you’d like to invite any people to come with us,” he made a lewd gesture, “try to curb your appetite to three or four ladies.”

“How very generous of you.” Auguste laughed.

Damen felt Laurent’s words bubbling out of his own mouth. “I am nothing, if not a gracious host.” The two of them were interrupted from their playful banter by a serving girl, who bowed low to the both of them.

“Exalted One, the cargo master wishes to discuss a matter of urgency with you.”

Damen had an inkling suspicion about what the issue was, and it was confirmed as the serving girl led him to the cargo master, who seemed barely able to control his rage. He was red in the face, fists clenched, all the familiar symptoms. _Laurent_.

Damen sighed.

The man hastily offered his greetings and needed no invitation to launch into his grievances. “Exalted One! There is a most pressing issue at hand. The young Prince of Vere must be talked to; I have tried to explain but he…he…” Damen had never seen anyone so desperate to call a child a ‘son of a bitch’ before.

“Yes, yes. The Prince is a very _particular_ breed of annoying. What’s the matter?”

The man was wildly gesticulating to vent his anger. “I have tried to explain to him that we cannot---I _will_ not be responsible for a sunken ship! We cannot load that many books before the day is out; even if we did it would sink the cargo ship! His Grace does not see reason! He turns logic on its’ very head!”

If not for the fact that Damen valued this man’s experience and loyalty, he might have been very impressed with Laurent. Obviously Laurent wanted to cart half the library across the strait to Isthima and was able to neatly outmaneuver, insult, and enrage the cargo master in fluent Akielon. He was a force to be reckoned with.

Damen put his hand on the man’s shoulder in a sign of intimacy and camaraderie. “I’ll handle it. Load the other materials and save the books for last. No more than two crates’ worth, I assure you.”

The library was even more tumultuous.

The elderly head librarian looked as though his heart might give out any minute from stress, and the young bookkeepers were running about looking truly alarmed. Damen almost wanted to break out in laughter as he was mobbed by an army of concerned librarians.

“Where is he?”

Laurent looked wholly unconcerned as Damen approached with two empty crates and dropped them at his feet.

“You interrupted my breakfast. You get these two crates and nothing more.’

Laurent’s smile could peel paint from the walls. “And how many does my brother get?”

“Your brother is limited too, as are we all. You cannot haul my library across the ocean.”

“How many diversions is Auguste taking?” Laurent would not let it die. “Like virgins, books are best enjoyed once before you begin with another.” Damen rolled his eyes at the logic of this little brat.

“Truly, you are a romantic. Comparing women to books.” And, feeling a bubble of wickedness inside of him, Damen tossed one of the crates aside, splintering it into pulp. Laurent jumped and looked at him with growing shock.

“What---?”

“One crate of books.” Damen gave a Cheshire grin. “That’s all you get. You kicked me in the balls.” And he left to go finish his breakfast. “Nobody move a damn thing in this library unless its’ in _that_ crate.”

He could barely speak for laughing when he met up with Auguste again.

Auguste had changed into a simple white chiton for their journey across the sea and had heartily enjoyed the story as they walked down to the docks. It was packed with people, as usual, but they made way for Damen and Auguste with respectful bows.

The ports at Ios were beautiful.

The sea was shallow and the most appealing shade of blue-green while the port itself was white to reflect the intense rays of the sun: white stone, white cobblestone, painted white clay, white seabirds…Splashed amidst the blinding white, were swathes of color in the awnings of the stalls, the sails of the ships, and the fresh seafood laid out for market.

The three royal ships were anchored in the best spot in the port and Damen led Auguste up the gangplank. He looked awed by the place.

“Have you never been on a ship before?”

“I’ve never been this close to the sea before.” Auguste admitted. “It’s beautiful.”

Damen grinned as though Auguste had paid him the compliment. It also helped that the whipping sea breeze blew the short chiton up around Auguste’s milky thighs. Hopefully by the end of the trip his skin would be glazed brown by the island’s sun.

He took immense joy in showing off the ship to Auguste; since the trip would only take about an hour an a half, the vessel was not nearly so large and lavish as some others in the king’s fleet, but for Auguste it was a fascinating new experience and he was delighted by everything from the galley kitchen and tiny sleeping quarters to the mechanisms that helped the hulk to sail.

People arrived slowly throughout Damen’s tour; his father and kyroi were sailing with this main ship as well as Kastor and his entourage and the household steward. Slaves, servants, and soldiers were assigned to the two other cargo ships in their party.

Laurent had arrived before midday and refused to join in the tour or look anywhere near Damen. A single crate sat by his feet.

The captain weighed anchor with a single decisive command by King Theomedes, and Laurent could feign boredom no longer. As soon as their ship cleared the port and sailed smoothly into the endless expanse of blue, Laurent ran to the bow of the ship, eyes wide with delight.

Auguste shared his brother’s delight when it came to seafaring, and if Damen thought he had been excited to explore, it was nothing compared to when the two of them saw dolphins racing alongside the ship.

To Damen, who made the trip every year, it was nothing new or exciting. But their happiness was infectious and he grinned indulgently.

The journey passed by quickly with the Princes of Vere on board, and it was Laurent who saw the pearl of an island that was Isthima. Lush, verdant, and tropical with long reefs clinging to even longer beaches, the jewel of the island was the summer palace. Its white stone balconies were visible above the sharp cliffs on the western curve. Damen could not wait to show his guests.

 

“You cannot sit inside and read all day.” Damen warned Laurent as soon as they had finished breakfast the next morning. The boy glared at him from under his blond lashes. “ _I mean it_. Gods help me, if you return to Ios as pale as marble my people will think you’re ill. And you cannot dress like an elderly scholar!”

“I’ll simply explain that you make me ill with your nagging,”

Auguste stared at the two of them with barely restrained laughter. Perhaps he was amazed that his best friend and baby brother bickered like elderly women. Maybe it was because Damen did not pull punches with someone four years his junior; it would be a deadly mistake with Laurent.

Damen raised his eyebrows at Auguste, as if saying ‘do you see what a pain in the ass he is?’ He was trying to remain in good humor because Auguste was sporting the typical swimming costume for these islands: a simple white length of fabric tied in a thong around the hips.

Damen was going to take his guests on a short ride to the rocky beaches of the eastern sides where they could dive for shellfish, octopus, and abalone. If Laurent would cooperate anyway…

“I dislike being outside.” Laurent admitted.

“Everyone else who is nearby dislikes you outside too. But I want you to see…how beautiful it is.” Damen pleaded. He knew Laurent would be just as mesmerized as he had been on the ship. If only he would leave the damn summer palace…

Finally Auguste got involved. “Laurent…please come.”

“Auguste I can’t swim.” Laurent’s resolve was faltering. “I never…got to go to the lakes. I never learned…” But this only added fuel to Damen’s fire.

He grasped Laurent’s hands in excitement. “I’ll teach you! This is wonderful! By the time we leave Isthima I’ll have you swimming with dolphins!” Damen was goal-oriented and a challenge to complete by the end of their vacation was exactly what suited him best.

Facing the insurmountable joy from both his brother and Damen, Laurent grudgingly agreed to join them. It was after only a half hour’s ride that the three half-naked Princes dismounted on the rocky beaches of the eastern side.

Damen like Isthima because most of the people there were simple fishing folk or crafters of pottery from the white clay on the islands. Although there was a royal palace on the island, they had little time or interest to care about rubbing elbows with their rulers. Therefore Damen and his guests could move around the little island without any fear of being accosted. The most they could expect was a nod of acknowledgment.

Save for the children.

This beach was populated with them: browned deep by the island sun, good-natured, and completely naked, these wild things were more fish than human. Laurent shied away behind Auguste at their approach. He could not understand their strong accent and he was _extremely_ uncomfortable at showing so much skin. He was used to being able to hold his ground in any language, but their Akielon was too rough. As for showing skin, Damen had realized with twinge of anger and sorrow that he probably felt unsafe showing his body in any way. Old habits died hard…

Damen grinned down at the swarm of young Isthimans as they clutched at his hands, uncaring that he was their Crown Prince. “Brother, brother! Who are these men?”

Damen ruffled some curly black heads; he doubted these simple children could read, much less know about the kingdom of Vere. Auguste seemed wholeheartedly amused as the children stroked his skin and Laurent looked terrified as they inspected him, for no one in all of Isthima had skin that color.

“Brother, brother. Why is your skin like a shark’s belly? You’ll burn. Your eyes are like the sea.”

The older teenagers had begun to wander in from their explorations of the numerous tide pools to investigate what was going on. Damen saw an excuse to help Laurent loosen up a little more.

“Do you see this young brother, here?” He gestured at Laurent and Laurent needed no invitation; he escaped from his brother and their captive audience to the arguably more capable Damen. “He doesn’t know how to swim.”

It was humorous to see the look of shock ripple across the small crowd.

For these kids, island children, not knowing how to swim was the most foreign and unnatural concept. Having spent most of their time since birth in the ocean, they looked at Laurent as if he had a second head.

Their response was unanimous in childish outrage. They surrounded Laurent with serious expressions. “We must teach you! Brother, we must teach you!”

Damen translated hastily for Laurent and Auguste and swept Laurent into the air, tossing him over his shoulder to a laugh from Auguste. The children and even the teenagers cheered with excitement and began sprinting toward the water, all of them wanting to help the snowy boy learn how to swim.

Laurent’s hands trembled on Damen’s biceps as they waded out to shoulder height water and he held Laurent aloft at the surface. At this depth only he and Auguste could touch the rocky bottom and the island’s children dog-paddled around them to showcase their own skills.

“D-Don’t let me go.” Laurent chattered as he realized he could not stand.

“He’ll not let you go.” Auguste assured from where he floated behind his brother.

Delighted that the foreign boy was now in their ocean, the young Isthimans shouted encouragements: “Brother! Put your legs out straight!” “Kick your legs harder! No don’t drop them!” “Brother, Brother! Keep your head up. And hold your breath! Don’t be afraid!”

Damen ignored them all and adjusted Laurent, straightening his arms and body so that he was stretched on his belly across the surface. All the while he murmured encouragements. His whole life in Vere, people had been telling Laurent that he was not athletic; Damen disagreed. All he needed was a little praise.

There was a great exclamation from Damen, Auguste, and all the helpful onlookers as Laurent finally felt comfortable enough to let go of Damen’s arms. Shocked, he paddled smoothly for a few moments…before he forgot to float and his head bobbed under the surface.

Damen scooped him up easily, laughing as Laurent sputtered with his blond hair plastered over his face.

For Laurent’s lack of skill, he more than made up for it in his love of studying and single-minded determination. So even after Damen, Auguste, and the teenagers halted the swimming lesson in order to dive for fresh seafood, Laurent refused to join the other children in exploring the tide pools and continued to paddle furiously in the shallows. Occasionally Damen and Auguste saw his blond head disappear beneath the water, but he would emerge not long after gritting his teeth in determination.

“What have you caught?” Damen asked Auguste, slicking back his curls.

Auguste’s entire body was speckled brown by the sun and his hair glowed an even brighter shade of gold. As if he could not believe it himself, Auguste held up a wriggling violet octopus.

Damen was having a hard time focusing on catching anything because he was so mesmerized by the waving of Auguste’s golden hair under the sea. By late afternoon the two of them had nets filled with crabs, abalone, oysters, urchins, and Auguste’s octopus. Laurent was nowhere to be seen.

For a moment Auguste looked terrified, afraid that Laurent had drowned.

However, one of the teenagers pointed to a small pile under the shadows of a cluster of orange trees. Curled up in the darkness were the limp, browned, and sleeping forms of the Isthiman children and Laurent. He did not even flinch at their noisy approach, sleeping on.

“Shall we head back?” Auguste asked quietly. Damen nodded in reply and accepted the net of creatures so that Auguste could scoop up his brother.

Damen turned to the owner of the net. “Little brother, may we borrow your net?”

Anywhere else in Akielos, a person would beg Damen not only to borrow the net but to keep it. He was the prince after all. This boy, however, deliberated. “Brother, I’ll give you the net if you give me one of your horses.” Damen laughed in disbelief.

“That hardly seems fair.” But then again Laurent was to tired to even wake up, much less ride. “Borrow. You lend me this net, and I’ll lend you the smallest horse. You’ll keep it until I come back tomorrow, understand?”

The boy nodded in excitement and Damen shouldered the net.

It was nearly twilight by the time the three of them re-entered the summer palace on their two remaining horses. Damen traded Auguste the seafood for his sleeping brother, knowing that Laurent would be banished to his quarters yet again. The child was so tired he didn’t wake up even as he hit Damen’s arms.

Damen dropped Laurent off before he and Auguste were to meet for dinner again, and, lazily indulgent from the sun and sea, Damen changed the little boy into his sleeping shirt. He was trying to be very smooth so as not to wake him, but the moment he tried to untie the swimming cloth around Laurent’s waist, the boy jerked awake, almost as if he had forced himself to do so. Damen held very still while Laurent surveyed him with fearful, lucid eyes.

Then recognition dawned in his eyes and he physically drooped in Damen’s arms, his eyes beginning to close in drowsiness.

“Damen…I thought you were…someone…else…”

Damen waited until his breathing was smooth again before lowering him into the bed, but before he left he leaned over and whispered, almost prayer-like: “No nightmares. No dreams tonight.”

 

Only Damen’s lightning fast reflexes kept the coin from drilling him squarely in the forehead. Instead he caught it easily, wondering for a moment why Auguste had thrown such a thing.

“You won the bet.” Auguste admitted.

He was nearly unrecognizable after a month and a half of island living. Both Princes of Vere had freckled brown and their hair had been bleached to a shimmering white-gold. Auguste had also developed a taste for octopus.

Laurent had not even opened his crate of books.

Damen grinned at the gold coin in his palm. “I told you I would wear the two of you out.”

It was their last night in the summer palace of Isthima and they were spending it in Damen’s room. Laurent was asleep with his head in Auguste’s lap while the two Crown Princes were sharing a bottle of wine.

They had spent the day in their favorite place on the island: the rocky beach where everyone had taught Laurent how to swim. He had become such a skillful swimmer in a month and a half that a stranger might mistake him for an island child, save for his gold hair. Damen had also made sure that their days were packed with activities: riding through the jungles, visiting the two small towns on the island, fishing on boats, or hunting the tiny island deer. It was enough to make Laurent fall asleep not long after dinner. His sleep was dreamless.

“How can people here find the energy to make love?” Auguste wondered aloud, stroking Laurent’s hair. “I’m too boneless from the sun. All I can do is let them ride me…”

Damen laughed softly, though the thought of sleepy sex with Auguste was…

“Maybe they fuck during the day,” Damen responded. “Gives them more stamina. Like this brat. He’s growing like a weed and getting strong from swimming. Soon he’ll be a young man…”

Auguste looked down at his brother’s lengthening legs and broadening shoulders with relief. “It cannot come soon enough…”

For Auguste, Laurent’s change would be an enormous weight off of his mind. Once Laurent hit puberty, then his uncle would probably find no interest in his deepening voice and maturing body. He would finally be safe in his own home and Auguste could relax.

“You are a good brother, Auguste,” Damen said.

“You are too kind.” Auguste replied. “It’s hard to feel that way though when you can’t even…” He physically shook the thought from his head. “This is the first time in so long that I can relax. That… _he_ can relax. There is no way I can repay you for such a gift.”

Damen felt the wine acutely in that moment, and his tongue decided to disobey. “Could…could you love me?”

Auguste looked up, startled for only a split second, before his face became smooth and gentle again. “Like my brother, you have no love of timing. I love you Damianos, as I love my own brother. Aside from him and my father, I feel like you can understand me best in this world. I value you as my most trusted friend and for protecting my brother…I can deny you nothing. So please,” He took Damen’s hands in his own and Damen was startled not to see the white on brown he was used to, “please don’t ask this of me.”

Damen grinned rakishly. “I never was a good listener. You always did say you preferred women…and I’ve had no pleasant bedmate since you’ve arrived. Ahhh…maybe it’s the wine.”

“To your advantage, your chest is bigger than some of the women I’ve bedded.”

“Forget I said anything.” Damen blushed.

“I’m sorry. Truly I am. I cannot help my preferences. And I know you won’t force me. I know you, my friend.” Auguste pulled Damen’s head in close so that their foreheads were pressed together.

“You’re not fair.” Damen remarked.

“I am the older brother of Laurent of Vere.” Auguste said, lifting one eyebrow. “Fairness in a battle of words is not the practice in my family.” Then, removing his forehead from Damen’s and placing his empty glass of wine on the side table, Auguste stretched out next to his little brother. “I’ve missed this…Its’ been over two months since I’ve shared a bed with him.”

“Are you sleeping here tonight?”

Laurent basically answered for him as he snuggled deeper into the crook of his brother’s arm. “I used to…dislike it a little. And I do like holding a woman in my sleep now. But part of me will always like sleeping with Laurent. That feeling that he’s protected eases my mind.”

Damen put his wine glass on the ground and padded over to slip on his own sleeping shirt. He extinguished all but one of the oil lamps; even if Laurent did awaken, the moon was bright enough to illuminate the whole room in an ethereal glow. As he nestled back into his bed Auguste smiled at him and cuddled his brother closer. They were so incomparably dear…

Damen watched Auguste. Watched until those long lashes swept down and his arms went limp and his breathing became the same slow, steady pace as Laurent’s.

When he was absolutely sure both brothers were deep in the throes of sleep, Damen gently pushed himself off the bed, and gazed down at them for a moment. He walked out to the balcony and stood there until the moon was high in the sky. To an onlooker, it simply seemed like the Crown Prince was enjoying his last night in Isthima, gazing at the moon and the lush jungles spread before him. But Damen stood alone and quiet, glad that no one could come and disturb him while his heart was breaking…


	6. Year 14 (Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooooo! Ending the first year in Akielos and then we'll go back to Vere! I'm sorry for Damen's broken heart but I'm sure he'll get over it in due time...  
> I keep flipping this story between humorous and serious; I guess I can never deliver 100% angst. Anyways thanks for all the lovely comments and kudos! I never imagined my story could get this much love!

** Akielos: Year 14 (Part 3) **

Damen lounged drowsily in the late afternoon sun, relishing in the feeling of being tangled in cool bed sheets. Draped across either one of his arms were curtains of hair that only appeared gold under the sun. The man belonged to Auguste’s retinue and his skin was still white, despite being in Akielos for more than three months, and his hair was that red-gold Damen found he liked second-best. The other was a slave from his own court, who only kept her coloring from a meticulous beauty regiment. Her skin was white from lead creams and never staying too long in the sun, while her wavy hair only retained its’ bit of blonde by the careful application of lemon juice. It was a paltry substitute, but it was how Damen coped.

He had not slept with anyone in almost half a year and he felt drained and full at the same time. Damen had always been a whirlwind of emotions; he fell in love easily and lost interest rapidly, especially if his lovers did not reciprocate.

He did not lose sleep over unrequited love.

Gently, so as not to wake his two lovers, Damen slid out of his sheets and threw on a simple tunic. Although he enjoyed the brief interlude, he wanted to spend as much time with the Veretian princes as possible.

He had three weeks left with them, but most of the last week would be spent with feasts, festivals and an okton celebrating the beginning of the harvesting season. Damen was looking forward to competing with Auguste and his men; the betting would probably begin within the next week.

Auguste was probably down in the Akielon training grounds practicing with the heavy Akielon tridents and the lighter spears used on horseback.

Damen would only be encouraged to show off his own superior skills if he were to appear there, so he decided to hunt down the younger brother instead, rather than intimidate the elder.

The library was nearly empty when he arrived. So empty in fact that even Laurent was not present.

“Where is he?” Damen asked Isander, a little surprised.

The boy bowed quickly. “He didn’t say, Exalted One. Only took a few tomes and an apple. Recently he has been roaming out of doors though…” Laurent had taken to Isander as well as he could take to anyone, Damen had supposed.

The boy was simple and sweet in comparison to Laurent’s deadly and poisonous intelligence, and he seemed in awe of the fact that a prince would talk with him as an equal. On Laurent’s part, he treated Isander with uncharacteristic gentleness but distance, as a nobleman might treat a beloved dog. Damen wished he could find someone Laurent could relate to, but no one could keep up with that mind.

“I’ll look in the gardens, thank you.” Damen said, remembering Laurent reading under the shade of the trees in Vere.

The gardens in Ios at twilight were made for lovers and secrets.

There were marble alcoves hidden by thick curtains of ivy, maze-like hedges, gnarled old trees, and artfully overgrown fences on the perimeters of long pools. In other words, there were ample hiding places for Laurent to read in peace. Damen stepped lightly so that he didn’t disturb anyone…

…and very nearly tripped over a pair of outstretched legs.

“ _Shit_!” Damen and his victim gasped simultaneously.

The man whom he had tripped over spun around as if he were about to yell, but then turned hilariously blotchy in a mix of waning anger and growing embarrassment. “Your Majesty! I beg your pardon! I was…we were just…”

Damen recognized the man; with his tousled brown hair and beautiful jaw, he was Lazar, one of Auguste’s constant soldier companions. He was currently flushed down past his neck and the V-cut of the front of his tunic was in disarray. Curious, Damen used his height to peer above the man and see what---or in this case _who_ \--- was worth skipping okton training.

“Pallas, well met.” Damen nodded, trying to keep a straight face.

Pallas, his own soldier, was considerably less decent, with his entire tunic unraveled to show his chest, the skirt pushed up high on his hips. He blushed furiously despite his dark skin, but nodded in acknowledgment of his Prince.

“Erm…carry on I suppose…just don’t let Nikandros catch you.”

They bowed hastily and Damen excused himself immediately. Listening carefully, Damen thought he heard the sound of unsuccessfully muffled laughter and decided to follow it to a twisted olive tree.

He jumped as an apple core hit him squarely in the chest.

“You cheeky brat.”

“You’re better at catching books.” Came the reply and a book sailed at his head next. Damen caught it; it was his book of folk tales. He grinned. “I think it’s rude to interrupt intimacy, which is why I avoided your quarters. I see you don’t share my opinion, to the shame of poor Lazar.”

“At least I don’t peep like you do. Move over; I look crazy talking to a tree.”

“To be fair I was here first.” There was a sound of rustling leaves and Damen took that as his cue to begin climbing. “Also you don’t need to talk to a tree to look crazy. Trust me, most of your court already knows.”

“So help me god, I’ll push you out of this tree.”

Laurent was reclined lazily with his books between two branches and Damen was struck for a moment by how he looked in the shadows. For a split second, the boy looked like the man he might become: long limbs, a strong jaw, a jutting Adam’s apple…but the light shifted and he was just pretty, evil Laurent again. Damen smiled at him.

“Hello Snow Prince.”

“How fares my brother at training?” Laurent inquired coolly, but Damen could hear the slight edge of fear underneath his words. The okton could easily become deadly in the case of a poorly aimed spear and Laurent’s nightmare must have been haunting him…

“Your brother is a skilled and brave athlete. I’ll not let anything befall him.”

Laurent glared at Damen’s perceptiveness. He did not like being transparent. “So why have you decided to come bother me instead?”

Damen stretched, purposefully kicking Laurent’s leg off the branch. “How rude. You only have three weeks left in Akielos and then you have to go home to Vere and explain that tan.” Laurent blanched a bit and twisted his fingers in his lap, a nervous habit he had not done much recently.

“I…I’m trying not to think about it.”

“I’ll have to get new books in your absence.” Damen said kindly, motioning to the small stack. “Apparently you’ve been decimating my current collection, at least according to the head librarian.”

Laurent smiled softly. “I’ll miss your library.”

“I’m sure my bookkeepers will miss you. You keep them on their toes. But I suppose a lively, mischievous friend is better than a boring one.”

Laurent cocked his head. “Friend? No one wants to be my friend. You---I have no friends.” It knocked the wind out of Damen, hearing the obvious words of another coming out of his mouth. He wondered how long it had taken before Laurent had actually begun to believe it himself…

“I’m your friend.”

“You’re my brother’s friend.” Laurent responded dryly. “I’m an inconvenient interloper.”

“Laurent, don’t say that…”

They were silent for a long moment, Laurent flipping through one of his books, coldly refusing to look at Damen. Damen watched the shadows change, trying to find a way to prove the boy wrong.

“Laurent, do you like Isander?”

It gave him pause. It appeared he was tempering his emotions. “I suppose. He is kind and helpful. All you could ask for in a bookkeeper and, I assume, a future pet.”

“I could arrange for him to accompany you back to Vere. So you won’t be alone in your library.”

For a moment, Laurent looked at him with a glow of surprise and…it seemed like hope. Laurent cultivated such an air of boredom and bitchiness, it was really amazing to see such an expression on his face. It didn’t last long. He became thoughtful and then a small shudder of pain flickered in his jaw. He shook his head resolutely.

“No. I cannot. Absolutely not.”

“I don’t mind Laurent.”

“I don’t---“

“I’m the prince. He could be my gift. I’ll give him to you.”

“Damen---“

“I’ll give him the order. You don’t have to refuse.”

“I _can’t_!” Laurent was truly angry now and in his rage, he accidentally upended the books, knocking them out of the tree to the path below. “Don’t you _see_?! I can’t! I can’t…protect him. I can’t…” Damen then realized his cruelty; Isander was only thirteen and Laurent must have known that the court of Vere was not safe for him. In the past year, Damen had forgotten what lurked there, but Laurent, for his own safety, could not forget. And he would not let innocent Isander face it…

“I’m sorry, Laurent. I understand. I won’t make him go.”

“I cannot have friends.” Laurent shook his head, chanting the words like a mantra. “I cannot. Not until I’m older. I can’t…keep _anyone_ safe. I don’t want anyone to hurt my friends.”

Damen moved forward to keep him from falling out of the tree. “I know. I know.”

He had calmed a bit now. “I’m sorry…about your books.”

“I can get new ones.”

“I’m sorry. I’m…on edge…”

“Laurent…” Damen realized now why he was so nervous. If Auguste died in the okton, then no one would be left to protect him. No one would believe him. “I am your friend, I swear. I will protect Auguste. I won’t let you be alone.”

Laurent sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose is a very adult-like gesture. “You vex me.”

“I’ll take that as an acknowledgement. I know you believe me…despite your best efforts.”

For Laurent’s benefit, Damen fetched his books so that he could continue to read in the orangey glow of the sunset and didn’t speak so that he could concentrate. It was rare that Laurent revealed so much of himself and Damen had to take time to process this new information. Anger was still bubbling in the pit of his stomach over the injustice dealt to this poor kid. At least it made his prickliness bearable, if not explainable.

Laurent did not move until after the sun had set and the lamps had been lit. Once again, his focus was amazing. But also Damen did not know what to say to begin another, less volatile, conversation.

After long however, Laurent stood, lithe and balanced as a cat on one branch, and stretched his arms and back. “Shall we go in and eat? I’m sure you and my brother are starving.” He carelessly tossed the book in his arms at Damen’s head and swung down off the tree branch with a careless grace. Damen was amazed he didn’t try more sports.

“You left all my books up here!” Damen called, scooping them up in his arms.

Laurent sauntered back toward the palace without a backward glance. “I’m sure you know the way back to your own library. I have confidence in your intellect.”

“What makes you think I want to?”

“It’s what friends do, or so I’ve heard.” Damen could hear the wicked smile in Laurent’s voice. “Do things for each other. You are taking my books back and I will not kick you in my sleep tonight.”

 

The week of the games dawned warm and cloudless, in other words perfect, despite the chaos of preparations and the attitudes of the Veretian Princes. Damen, amidst his own practice for the festivities and resting in his quarters, watched them carefully.

Auguste had become deadly accurate with both the spear and trident, much to the shock of Damen’s men. When he went shot for shot with Nikandros, and even had the good humor to tease him in his improving Akielon, garnering shouts of laughter and encouragement from the soldiers. However, Damen saw the tightness in his jaw and his grip on the reins as he practiced for the deadly okton. He had apparently also become acutely aware that the next time he would make love to a woman could well be the next time he came to Akielos. So when he was not practicing, eating, or sleeping, he was making love with a kind of desperation, like he was stockpiling the experience. At least rumors had told Damen that the Prince’s skill had vastly improved and that he was a very gentle and attentive lover.

While Auguste was driven and active, Laurent in contrast was restless. He flipped through books without actually reading them, roamed the halls with no destination in mind, and tossed and turned in his sleep. Damen found that he missed the boy’s spark of wit, but who could blame him? He was afraid.

Afraid of going home to a nest of vipers. Afraid that he had not grown enough. Afraid of sinister things lurking in the shadows. But, most of all, he was afraid his brother might die in the okton and have to face it all without his brother and only ally.

Auguste had watched his brother with concerned eyes, as Laurent only moved his food around without eating any of it.

It was the day for wrestling.

Since King Theomedes was hosting both Princes of Vere and their retinue, he was focusing on one activity each day for the benefit of all the men and women who wished to participate. Today was focused solely on wrestling, Damen’s specialty; he was undefeated in all of Akielos.

The next day would be swordfight, which was the event with the highest bets, the middle of the week would feature spear throwing followed by the trident. The last day was the great okton, the most popular of any of the games.

Most of the regular civilians held their own sporting bouts in the great coliseum in Ios, while the soldiers and royalty performed in the royal fields next to the gardens. The top three contenders from the civilian bouts would join the royalty later in the day for a chance to compete. All the wrestling was done in the nude.

As Damen and his cheerful friends were oiled by several slave girls, he surveyed the crowds. Laurent sat bolt upright next to the King Theomedes, trying to be on his best behavior, while Kastor sat on the other side of his father, completely unconcerned with the sports, but was instead focused on Jokaste. Aside from swordplay and vigorous sex, Kastor did not bother himself with physical activities.

Damen was hailed with a cheer as he walked into the dirt in the center of the field to face his first opponent…

He almost tripped as he came face-to-face with the oiled Auguste.

Auguste had made it quite clear he was uncomfortable with the thought of being naked and wrestling with other men---and indeed he was wearing the swimming cloth from Isthima---and yet, here he was. His grin was positively impish.

King Theomedes also looked on with a mix of amusement and surprise. “Prince Auguste, I was unaware you were taking part in the wrestling competition. Indeed I was told you had not even practiced.”

Auguste bowed with exaggerated cheekiness. “Your reports are true, Your Excellency, I am not competing, but as a sign of goodwill and for the pride of my own country, I would at least like to challenge your son to a bout. I can almost guarantee my loss, so I would recommend Your Majesty not to place your bets on my shoulders.”

“Damianos?” His father asked.

Damen was thrilled; Auguste did not know what he had gotten himself into. “Of course I accept.” Laurent rolled his eyes. The crowd went wild again as the two princes embraced in a customary symbol of sportsmanship and squared off. It was clear immediately that Auguste was still a novice. Damen could tell just from his stance.

“You know wrestling is customarily done naked.” Damen remarked as they gripped each other’s shoulders.

“And Veretians _customarily_ do not wear so little clothes.”

“I’ll not take it easy on you.” Damen warned.

“I would never dream of it.” Auguste said.

The whistle blew and muscles bunched in exertion. Damen relished the feeling of competition, of the energy in the air. But Auguste only knew how to grip, so with one smooth motion, Damen leaned his shoulder in, throwing Auguste off balance, and flipped the man over his back, onto the ground. It was over in moments with Damen as the victor, but he could not bask in his glory, as he was laughing so hard.

Auguste had had the wind knocked out of him and looked up at Damen with bafflement. “Damianos…” He wheezed. “You…are a son…of a whore…which is…an insult to…whores…” And then he too was laughing. “How the hell are you so strong?!”

Damen took Auguste’s left hand in his right and raised them over his head, as if the match had been a draw.

King Theomedes was wiping away tears of repressed laughter. “How have you found wrestling my son, Prince Auguste?”

Auguste stretched his back, which would surely be bruised by the next morning, but he kept a guise of good-humor. “Your Majesty, your son is very…skilled. However, I find more joy and…pleasure in wrestling Akielon women.”

He said all of this in Akielon and by the end of his pronouncement there was a huge shout of laughter from across the crowds. Both King Theomedes and Makedon welcomed the young man up into their presence with claps on the back and chilled cups of wine, as if he had won the bout himself. Damen met eyes with Laurent, just so the boy could see him roll his eyes in response.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Damen easily won the wrestling matches.

But the swordplay was a completely different monster. This time Auguste _did_ compete and while he was a novice with wrestling, his swordplay was that of a Veretian master. He neatly dispatched any and all competitors to the joy of the crowd. Damen almost thought about letting the handsome foreign prince win to see what would happen, but his competitive nature would not allow such a thing.

After a shocked Nikandros was dispatched by Auguste, the only person left for him to face was Damen.

Damen spun his sword around his wrist easily as his friend entered the ring. He was taller and heavier than the man and he felt confident enough in his own skills that he decided to play a bit. “How’s your back?” He asked lightly.

Auguste grinned but his blue eyes narrowed at the challenge. “Hopefully your sword is as clever as your mouth. You sound like Laurent.”

“Good god, what an insult.” Damen laughed.

The King himself gave the signal for the mock fight to commence and steel met steel in an enormous crash. While Auguste did not know the proper stances for wrestling, he was not giving Damen any quarter in their swordfight. While Damen was a brutal fighter, hitting with force and speed and using his long arms and great strength to his advantage, Auguste was elegant and slippery, with almost dizzying speed. His footwork was so complex, Damen was having to pause to actually think about his next move.

It was exhilarating to not only have a match in skill, but to have an opponent provide a new challenge.

Exhaustion did not set in because he was so interested in seeing what Auguste would do next. They moved in tandem, deadly dancers, with everyone holding their breath to see who would win. There was a lot of money riding on this match.

It was only a slight movement; a small mistake, slipping in the loose dust of the field, but Damen took it. He crushed his full weight against Auguste, ignoring the sharp burn that came from Auguste’s sword dragging across his wrist. His weight was too much and Auguste slipped to the ground, his throat, chest, and torso all laid bare before him. There was a gasp.

Damen stopped the tip of his sword a breath away from the white-gold hollow under his throat.

Auguste looked horrified for a moment, fury burning in blue flames deep in those eyes. Then his eyes crinkled, he deflated with a laugh, and his head thudded against the dirt in a puff of dust.

“Ahhhh, _fuck_ …you’re better than I am…”

There was a great shout of appreciation as Damen hoisted Auguste to his feet, embracing his friend. “You are more than a worthy match.” He murmured appreciatively. “I have never encountered such an opponent.”

As they broke apart Damen noticed only one person was not cheering. Laurent gripped his chair with white knuckles and wide eyes. Damen at first was filled with anger and horror over what could have caused his small friend such alarm, when he realized the fight was what had terrified him so… Then, all Damen felt was overwhelming guilt. After the accolades had been given and he had been presented with the ceremonial golden sword, he rushed to find the boy.

Laurent was not even halfway back to the palace gates before Damen caught up to him in a long-legged stride. Laurent flinched in recognition and before he could make any comment, Damen crushed the boy up against him in a firm hug.

He patted the soft blond head, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I won’t ever hurt your brother. I would never hurt Auguste. Don’t be scared…I’m sorry…”

Laurent’s arms gripped him, shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

It must have taken remarkable restraint for Laurent back at the arena to not show any further sign of shock and fear for his brother’s life. And---to his credit, as always---he never let anyone see him cry…

With much of the same fanfare, Lydos won the trident and Lazar, for all his Veretian roots, claimed the spear-throwing competition, leaving only the okton for last.

The main competitors on this day would be Damen and Auguste along with Nikandros, Jord, and Pallas.

The women of the crowd shrieked with glee and waved colored lengths of silk in honor of their favorite riders, so there was a blurry tide of five colors flashing in distraction: gold for Damen, silver for Auguste, blue for Jord, red for Nikandros, and white for Pallas.

After they were hailed by the King, each man greeted one another as friends and competitors, embracing as though it might be their last one together. Although rare in the royal competitions, there was still a chance for death thanks to a poorly aimed spear, and each one of these men knew it.

Damen’s last person to embrace was Auguste, and as he leaned forward, Auguste caught him with trembling hands, the same as Laurent’s had been. He was nervous, despite his cheerful outer appearance.

“Damianos, my friend. If…something is to happen to me---.”

“Auguste. It will be---.”

“Listen! Please…if I am to…come to any harm. Please. Promise me, swear on your life…don’t let Laurent leave Ios until he is a young man. Swear it to me.” Auguste’s voice was hungry for the oath. He was willing to toss all he was to the side for his brother’s sake, and now he was asking the same of Damen. “ _Please_.”

Damen patted him on the back. “I understand. You have my word. I’ll go to war with Vere if I must. But I will protect Laurent. For you, and only you.”

When Auguste pulled away, he looked more at peace with the coming events, smiling softly as he took up his bundle of spears and mounted the steady horse the stable master had given him. Damen fell in place beside him, reining his horse in hard. He needed full control for the task ahead.

As the Crown Prince, he was the first to begin the figure-8 and with an approving shout from the crowd, he nudged his horse into a full canter, easily skewering the first target with his spear. He had years of practice for this event, able to throw spears in his sleep. Auguste came next, graceful and light on his horse, with the hours of training paying off.

He too made a fine throw.

Jord, their guest, rode next and Nikandros and Pallas brought up the rear, each of them throwing with the skill of high-ranking soldiers.

It was at times like these that Damen was actually remarkably calm. With the adrenaline coursing in his veins to the rhythm of hoof beats pounding the soil, he could take in the minor details surrounding him.

The Akielon women waved to the riders, their bare breasts swaying with the motion of their arms while the men sat with clenched fists, no doubt worried about their betted coins. There were shouts in colorful Veretian from Auguste’s delighted guards and even more from Damen’s own soldiers. Lazar’s eyes traced Pallas’ path with single-minded affection and concern. Makedon was already tipsy in the stands, the okton being his favorite sport to watch; Jokaste watched the riders with a thoughtful hand on her swollen belly, while Kastor only seemed interested in the bunch of grapes by his table. King Theomedes watched them all thoughtfully, perhaps remembering the days when he too competed in this ‘King’s Sport’.

Laurent was next to Isander. He sat straight-backed in his chair, expression carefully calm, but there could be no doubt that he was on edge. His future could be decided with a single spear…

Damen saw all of this and more as he rode past and readied himself to throw the second spear.

It hit. Auguste’s did as well and so did Nikandros. Jord’s hit slightly left of center and Pallas missed the mark entirely. People were going wild. Only four spears left to use.

His muscles uncoiled like a spring sending the next spear in its’ deadly arc, barely missing the hindquarters of Nikandros’ horse. Auguste spurred his horse faster and tossed his own. The five of them were now a perfectly balanced machine of muscle, spears, and horses.

No one could make a mistake…


	7. Year 15 (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a triple dose of fun for everyone today! First, cliffhanger is revealed! Second, I'm introducing a familiar character that's new to this story. Third: LAURENT IS EVOLVING! Year 15 is going to be the last 'sad' year; after year 15 is mostly going to be sweeter stuff.  
> Thanks to everyone for helping me break 2000 hits and of course I love your comments! You guys are the best :)

** Vere: Year 15 (Part 1) **

“ _Lazar_!” Came the joyous scream from the courtyard. “Lazar has come back!”

The man in question blushed furiously as he was mobbed by his comrades after eight months in Akielos. Even Prince Auguste greeted him first, clapping him on his left shoulder. He was so used to seeing everyone in simple Akielon clothes, he had forgotten how intricate and tight the clothes of his own country were. His Prince was now in his nineteenth year, chest even broader, hair braided it was so long, and golden scruff on his chin.

Lazar bowed hastily, glad to be back in his home court. Softly, he felt Pallas’ creamy smooth hip brush against his own. It had been so long…

The day of the okton someone had thrown a spear incorrectly; it had been a chain of poor events, starting with Jord accidentally reining his horse too tight. This caused Pallas’ spear to come up too short and spear Jord’s horse’s flanks as he was throwing. The spear sailed wide towards the audience and stuck itself in Lazar’s right shoulder.

Luckily he was left-handed and the Prince of Akielos was kind enough to let him recover there until it was time for his trip to Vere. Thanks to the skillful hands of the Akielon physicians, and the even _more_ skillful hands of Pallas, Lazar had fared no worse than a two-inch long scar on his right shoulder.

The Prince, Damianos, was currently grinning wide and white, with his head bent so that he could press his forehead against Prince Auguste’s.

Like Auguste, he too was growing a bit of scruff on his chin and jaw, but in contrast the man never ceased growing up. At the end of their sojourn in Ios, he and Auguste had been about the same height, but now Auguste---who was not short by any stretch of the imagination---was once again several inches shorter than Damianos.

The man was a behemoth.

As Lazar and Pallas were led away by a crowd of appreciative fellows, so that their respective princes could reconnect, Lazar began to inquire as to what had been going on in his absence.

Jord filled him in easily; there were some new additions to court, whom he would probably meet shortly.

“And where is the second Prince?” Pallas inquired kindly in his broken Veretian.

All of the soldiers who had been stationed in Vere glanced at one another and began to flush an amusing spectrum of pinks and reds. Generally, Damianos’ faction had a better opinion of the younger Prince of Vere, but now it seemed that something had changed in the last eight months. Laurent of Vere was regarded with annoyance, shock, or blatant rage depending on His Highness’ volatile mood, but never with blush and bashfulness.

“What is it?” Lazar asked, almost laughing that they were so tongue-tied.

As if to answer his question and showcase why the men were so addled, Lazar and Damianos’ men caught sight of a familiar cream and gold figure running down the steps of Arles. It was…no, it couldn’t be him…

They realized then why everyone was struck dumb.

Damen had relinquished his hold on Auguste when he heard the sound of light, but determined footsteps. He turned and promptly choked on his own words.

“L-Little Scholar?”

Laurent’s mouth tweaked in a grin.

When he had left Ios, he had been still a little boy; gangly, yes, but his body and face were still smooth and stubbornly childish. However, in the eight months since then, Laurent had begun the sharp growth into a young man.

He was taller, up to Auguste’s shoulder with long limbs that he still seemed unused to. His shoulders had become broad, as had his chest, and there was the sharp jut of an Adam’s apple from his pale neck. The planes of his face had lost their baby smoothness and he had become a beauty unlike any Damen had ever seen before.

Androgyny suited him. Through the throes of puberty, he had managed to keep his wide eyes and long lashes as well as bow-like lips. Every feature on his creamy pale face was something any woman would be proud to possess.

Damen had seen many beautiful men in his life; pets, slaves, noblemen, peasantry, and soldiers all had a great beauty or two in their ranks, but none could hold a candle to this golden boy. In two or three years he would be grown and his beauty could wane or grow, but as of now he was probably the most exquisite young man in four kingdoms.

Damen was speechless in shock until Laurent decided to ruin it.

“I had no idea bears had such bad eyesight. Or that a question mark was added to my name.”

Damen narrowed his eyes. “I’d had no idea Jokaste has a twin sister in the Veretian court.”

Laurent stuck out his tongue childishly and squeaked as Damen hauled him in for a hug. Now that he was no longer a child, Damen used a quarter of his strength to lift the boy in the air, hearing dull cracking of bones. Laurent howled and thrashed with all the tiny fury he could muster.

“I’ve missed you, cheeky brat.”

Laurent’s cheeks were flushed with annoyance as he was placed back on his feet. “I’m going to stomp on your stomach tonight while you sleep!” He appeared to stalk off, but it was just slow enough that Auguste and Damen could keep up at their own leisurely pace.

“He _did_ miss you, you know.” Auguste whispered. “He’s talked of nothing else for a few weeks now.”

Damen grinned at the thought, as unbelievable as it was. “He’s grown!”

Relief washed over Auguste’s features as the three of them entered the marble halls of Arles. “As all boys do eventually, _thank god_.” Damen patted his shoulder and Auguste held his hand there. “Sometimes I felt like I was praying to his body while he slept. Grow faster, faster…And now he’s a young man.”

“Does he still sleep in your rooms?”

“Yes. As you can see people have noticed his…change. So I’ll keep a close eye on him until next year.” Auguste grinned indulgently. “Call it the over-protectiveness of a paranoid older brother.” Damen felt a rush of fondness; he had missed these beloved brothers.

It was clear the rest of the Veretian court had missed him equally.

Soldiers and nobles mobbed him with informal embraces and claps on the shoulder, pets---familiar and new---gazed at him coyly from under long eyelashes, and King Aleron himself thanked Damen for hosting both of his sons in Ios the previous summer.

“Look at you, Damianos! Tall and strong as a tree! I daresay you’ve outstripped my Auguste in all but skill.” The king’s eyes twinkled with delight. “Imagine my surprise when he comes home browned as you but with the prize of the okton to show for it.”

Damen grinned at Aleron’s foolish pride in his son. He took no slight.

“Father, you mustn’t gloat at our guest.” Auguste chastised.

Auguste had won the okton; his had been the last spear to fly and hit its’ mark so he had been presented with the simple golden spear of the victor to take home with him to Vere. He had been more concerned with Lazar’s health than the prize.

“Gods willing, I’ll have another chance at him next year.”

When he was presented to Auguste and Laurent’s uncle, Damen could not help but smile softly in vindication; Laurent was no longer a child, which meant his chance was gone. Almost as if he could read Damen’s mind, the royal uncle twitched his eyebrow up and gave a smile without mirth.

“Exalted One. Much has changed since your last visit.”

A number of bitter, but inappropriate responses came to Damen’s mind, but he could hold his tongue better than Laurent. Instead, he just nodded in assent, refusing to even grace the man with his thoughts.

“The court has been filled with excitement in anticipation for your…” The man pointedly looked toward a group of svelte pets who, in turn were gazing at Damen’s bare back, “ _company_. Especially my guard, though not for the same reasons. He is also a man of unusual strength and he might challenge you to a bout in your stay here.”

“The honor is his then. Excuse me.” Damen replied curtly, before excusing himself.

He felt calculating eyes on his back and bee lined for Laurent, determined to block him from view out of habit. Laurent jumped as Damen brushed up behind him; old habits didn’t just die hard with Damen…

Laurent’s face was a mask of calm. “Oh. It’s you. For a moment I thought the sun had set.” He had visibly relaxed.

“Ha ha.” Damen responded sarcastically. “Grow taller and then you’ll not make as many mistakes. I have a question. Your uncle,” he put his hand on Laurent’s shoulder to steady the boy, “mentioned his new guard. Can you point him out for me?”

Laurent’s pretty face twisted into an expression of dislike. “Govart…Unfortunately for you, he is away from court at the moment. I will not have the _unique_ pleasure of introducing the two of you.”

“Is he strong?” Damen asked.

“Not as strong as you.” Laurent complimented him lightly, “But he hates to lose. And he cheats, so don’t drink anything he gives you.” Damen took his advice to heart. “You can always count on the Veretian court to keep you on your toes…as if you need any excuse to be taller.”

Laurent did not exaggerate Govart’s less than desirable qualities.

Damen met the man a week later while he was out sparring with Auguste and his men. Auguste, though he would never admit it, was still aggravated about losing the swordfight in Ios to Damen. Therefore, almost every day found the two of them with their practice blades locked in the training grounds at Arles, much to the joy of their bet-loving soldiers. So far Damen had won two bouts and one had been called a draw due to their inability to accept defeat and eventual exhaustion.

Damen’s joy came just from seeing Auguste become steadily more frustrated as the fights continued.

“What do they _feed_ you in Akielos to make you so formidable?” Jord wondered aloud as Damen toweled the sweat off of his neck and chest.

“I survive on a steady diet of the best Akielon cuisine and the love juices of beautiful men and women.” His response elicited a shout of laughter from across the field and even Auguste, in his abject exhaustion, wheezed.

The laughter faded quicker than normal and Damen began to look around for the disturbance. The Veretians’ expressions took on a tone that they usually had reserved for when Laurent opened his mouth. Damen wondered who else could bring about such a reaction since Laurent himself was reading in the boughs of a tree branch.

The question was answered in short order.

The man was thuggish in face and stature, and malice rolled off of him in waves. He was a study in squares: a square head sat on square shoulders, and the nose was oddly square as if it had been broken in the past. Though he was not as tall as many of the men, he was stocky and probably outweighed most of them. He was, to the elegant and graceful court, like a chipped brick next to elaborately carved Veretian marble.

What surprised Damen most was the confidence with which he held himself.

Despite the fact that he was regarded with open disgust and disdain, he walked with the confidence of a man who could not be touched. Even Auguste’s smile was tinged with distrust, so Damen decided to tread lightly.

“You are the Prince of Akielos?” His voice was gruff with challenge, lacking all respect. There was a flicker of annoyance on his face as he had to look up at Damen.

“ _Govart_.” Auguste’s tone was light, but there was an edge of warning underneath. “This is Crown Prince Damianos of Akielos. You should treat him as our valued guest.”

Damen grinned. Govart did not like to be shorter or lesser in power than anyone, even a prince. “I’ve heard about you.” He heard a tree rustle behind him.

“Then I suppose you’ve heard that I am the undefeated wrestling champion in Vere.” Govart seemed unusually pleased with himself and the men looked at him with blatant dislike now. Damen was not surprised; he had the perfect body type for wrestling.

“I had not, no.”

This threw him off, that his reputation did not precede him. “I-I see. Word is that you are the champion in all of Akielos and many men here have attested to your skill. I would _humbly_ request the honor of a friendly match with you. Perhaps my skill is more to your level.” He said this all with a vague intonation of sarcasm, as though he didn’t believe Damen’s skill could rival his own.

It seemed everyone was holding their breath to see what would happen.

Damen smiled softly. “Of course. Who am I to refuse healthy competition?”

Govart snapped his fingers to no one in particular, giving the order as if he were in charge. “Someone fetch us water from my own pouch.” A book thudded to the dirt from the tree branches and Damen remembered Laurent’s warning.

“Thank you, you are gracious, but I have my own.”

Govart’s eyes narrowed for only a moment but shrugged off Damen’s preference. Damen noted that no one fetched Govart’s water and he did not press the issue further.

Damen casually removed his simple white fencing shirt and boots and had begun to unlace his trousers before the Veretians all called for him to stop. Auguste was hysterical. “In Vere, we don’t wrestle naked, Damianos. I know you like to show off your size, but please…trousers for bouts in Vere.”

“Your loss,” Damen joked, re-lacing the front of his pants.

Several men did indeed look disappointed in this turn of events, but even more were exchanging gold with quick, practiced hands.

Damen faced Govart with relaxed confidence.

“I’ll not take it easy on you, just because you’re a prince.” Govart promised arrogantly. Damen gritted his teeth; he did not like the idea that his opponent felt that Damen’s skill was only due to others letting him win.

Auguste was the one who whistled the command to begin and Damen dug his heels into the dirt; he knew what to expect from this type of man. He would use his superior strength to bowl over any opponent, like a bull charging. But Damen’s strength was more than equal, and he took the full force of Govart with only a grunt of exertion.

Govart looked shocked that Damen had not gone down with his first assault and attempted to push him back again. Damen stood his ground and simply let the man wear himself out. To the onlookers it seemed that the two of them were locked in a grapple hold.

Finally Damen made his move.

Govart’s arms relaxed for only a split second, and Damen grabbed one, yanking him forward over his shoulder. He landed in the dirt much as Auguste had in Ios, and before he could even catch his breath, Damen had him in an inescapable hold.

Govart struggled uselessly, his square face reddening with a mix of fury and asphyxiation. Damen was calm.

“Yield.” He murmured, and Govart struggled harder in response. Damen tightened his hold and Govart choked. “ _Yield_.”

There was the very lightest of taps in the dirt and Damen relinquished the man, rolling so that he was on his feet. Govart lay in the dirt coughing and most of the men were cheering at his chilling efficiency. Many of the new Veretian recruits who had not seen Damen in Ios were handing over their coins in shock to the gleeful older men.

After a clap on the back from Auguste, Damen offered Govart his hand to help him up. Govart looked up at him with a quick flash of dislike and refused to take Damen’s hand, standing up on his own. In Ios this would be considered a most grievous insult, and anyone who showed such unsportsmanlike behavior would be shamed and barred from ever competing publicly again. In Arles it would probably be considered extremely rude and would result in a stern disciplining. Damen just rolled his eyes.

As soldiers crowded around him to offer congratulations on such fine wrestling skills, Damen watched Govart stalk off without anyone offering him congratulations. It was now wildly apparent that he had not endeared himself to anyone in the arena.

Govart only glanced back once, his expression unreadable.

Damen followed his gaze seeing if he was staring at anyone in particular, but the spot was empty. Just the bare ground under the rustling leaves of an oak tree.

 

In his first weeks in Arles, Damen could see that Laurent was still uncomfortable in his own home, but in new and irritating ways.

Though his growth spurt had protected him from any ill intent of his uncle, he was still, undeniably, the best looking in the entire court. Pets spoke of him with disdain, poorly concealing their jealousy. They based their entire worth on how cunning and attractive they were, and now this boy-Prince who had been derided through the entire court one year ago was now considered the most beautiful on top of his superior intelligence. It drove them crazy to know that he had not even finished growing yet and could potentially become prettier.

So they stroked their own egos by tearing apart Laurent’s appearance. His hair was too mousy, they said. His eyes bulging, his skin sickly, his figure waifish. They insulted his lips as grossly full and his pride was distasteful. They also said his mind was like a snake’s, but most everyone was inclined to agree with that thought.

Laurent didn’t care at all what the vapid pets thought about him, often giggling at their observations.

However, Damen became so sick of them critiquing Laurent’s features that one evening, after enjoying the attention of one of the pets who had begun to abuse Laurent’s looks, he had finally snapped. Both of them completely naked, Damen had picked up the objecting pet, thrown him into the fountain closest to his quarters, and locked the young man out. Laurent had laughed aloud when he heard that the ashamed pet had had to wander the halls naked back the room he shared with the other pets.

“He said my face is like a rabbit’s?” Laurent cackled over lunch the next day.

What bothered Laurent---and therefore Damen and Auguste---more, were the attentions he received from the soldiers and other noblemen.

Nikandros reported to Damen what Jord probably told Auguste: while the men still distrusted Laurent the ‘Liar’ as a selfish and arrogant kid, by god he had become pretty. Now their comments had an element of lewdness to them, as many of the discontented men fantasized aloud about what they wanted to do to their bitchy, beautiful prince.

Damen pondered after Nikandros had finished with unmentionable examples of what was being said.

Truly these were rotted people, saying these things about some fifteen-year old kid.

“The Veretians are not my men to discipline,” Damen finally said with much regret. “Otherwise, they would feel the full force of my wrath. But let me know immediately if any of ours say such things. Any Akielon soldier of mine should not speak in such ways about someone still young.”

“Understood. Will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you Nikandros.”

It did not even stay in his own court.

One day Damen and Laurent were sitting together in the library, as they usually did before supper. As usual the library was empty, save for the two of them; Laurent was reading and Damen was folding scraps of paper into tiny flowers, which he then threw at the boy’s blond head.

“If your goal is to annoy me,” Laurent said, brushing off the papers on his shoulders, “then all you need to do is start conversing with me.”

In response Damen threw another flower at his nose.

“HOW OLD _ARE_ YOU!?” Laurent finally snapped, throwing an entire handful of scrunched flowers at Damen’s head. “God…”

The two of them stopped ribbing one another at the unfamiliar sound of approaching footsteps. It was only Orlant, however, who bowed to both of them with his usual stoniness. “Your Grace, Prince Laurent. You have a letter arrived from Patras.”

Laurent looked pained for a split second, before gracefully accepting the heavy envelope.

After Orlant had left, Laurent grudgingly opened the letter. Much to Damen’s surprise, at least five or six pages of handwritten notes fell out onto Laurent’s open book. There was a twitch of annoyance in his delicate jaw.

“Who has written you a novel?” Damen asked jokingly.

Laurent read them with obvious disinterest, tossing them to the side as soon as he had finished. Damen was astonished; he had never see Laurent treat books with such scorn.

“Two months ago there was retinue from Patras. There was some talk of Auguste marrying a princess there.” Damen only felt the slightest twinge of regret; it was natural for princes. “Anyway…one of the emissaries took a liking to me and now he sends me these long letters.”

“How is he?”

Laurent twisted his lips. “He uses too many metaphors, his speech is too flowery and there is no subtlety in his poetry. Also his handwriting lacks finesse.”

Damen started laughing. “Not his writing! I mean his personality, his appearance.” Trust the Little Scholar to judge a man based on the quality of his writing.

“I’d not given it much thought.” Laurent said with a furrowed brow. “He’s almost twice my age so…” Damen felt annoyance instantly bubble in the pit of his stomach. “I felt it would be inappropriate to encourage any further affections, so I’ve not been responding recently.”

“May I see?”

Luckily, the letter contained nothing that would give Damen and Auguste reason to beat the man. However, Laurent had not been lying: he praised Laurent’s beauty and personality in very inelegant prose. Damen was by no means an expert writer, but he could feel the hand of a novice in every sentence.

“It’s bad,” Laurent commented without looking up from his book.

Damen was trying not to laugh. “It’s…certainly… _different_.” He handed the papers back and Laurent threw them over his shoulder carelessly. “Laurent, I know…for your brother’s sake you behave diplomatically, but…if you ever feel uncomfortable with anyone’s attention, will you let me know?”

Laurent actually looked up from his book at this statement, fixing Damen with a quizzical blue gaze.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the talk about you.” Damen continued.

Laurent relaxed into disinterest. ”Oh, that. The vipers of Arles always talk and it’s rarely the truth. I’m the only one who speaks honestly and everyone calls me a liar. You need not worry about my delicate temperament.”

Damen smiled at his quick mind. “That’s not what I mean…”

“I’m not a helpless child anymore. I’m stronger.” Laurent said with an edge of bitterness, and Damen saw his grip tighten on the book. However his tone softened a moment later. “I’ll let you know if anyone in my court needs a sound thrashing.”

Damen leaned over to ruffle the boy’s blond hair…

Then he continued to throw paper flowers at Laurent’s head.


	8. Year 15 (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An early Christmas present for all my lovely readers, old and new: DRAMA!!!!!!
> 
> So if you are traveling or just hanging out at home, I hope you enjoy this newest chapter and have happy holidays!
> 
>  
> 
> CAUTION: (Some TWs apply in this chapter)

** Vere: Year 15 (Part 2) **

“Don’t do that!” Auguste laughed.

He and Damen were incognito in the city of Arles, wearing cloaks and simple peasant clothing in order to hide their identities, though Damen’s height made him an anomaly. Both Princes had swords at their waists as well, so they felt completely safe in the city. Damen was straining his muscles against the cheap laces of his clothing, attempting to see if he could break them with his own brute force.

“Sorry, sorry.” He replied as the buxom young tavern maid delivered their lunch. As a soldier and a man who loved simplicity, Damen much preferred this simple fare---roast duck and summer vegetables---to the lavish Veretian feasts.

There was to be another gigantic feast in a fortnight.

Auguste could not hide the quick way he traced the young woman’s form with his eyes. But, as a Prince, he composed himself and turned his attention to his meal.

“You miss it.” Damen stated. “It _is_ truly a travesty you don’t fuck men.”

Auguste looked intensely hungry and annoyed. “Is it bad that I now think about becoming aroused by the statues in the courtyard? When we visited the border forts I almost,” Damen raised one eyebrow in disbelief, “ _almost_ went to a brothel. _Almost_! Don’t look at me like that.”

“I believe you.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to wait until I am back in Ios.” Auguste nibbled on carrots in attempt to bring up his spirits. He had brought up the idea of eating in the city so that he could speak candidly with Damen.

“Or maybe the Vaskian guests will extend their…gratitude.” Damen offered.

A Vaskian tribe from the border cities was coming in the next two weeks to renew their trading agreement with the Veretians. Formidable fighters, the women and men of Vask were known for their legendary sexual appetites for strong warriors.

“Are you kidding me?” Auguste laughed. “They wouldn’t give me a second glance with you around. Curse your blasted height.”

“On the plus side, they’ll not pursue Laurent.”

Auguste looked very tense for a moment. He was trying his best to become accustomed to leaving Laurent alone for large chunks of time. But he was still worried, especially since Laurent’s appearance was garnering him attention. Auguste had probably heard the things people were saying about his brother, and it amazed Damen that he had not dragged some men to the whipping block.

“I’ll be in charge of negotiations with the Vaskians…more joys of being a Prince, I suppose. They’ll want to hunt stag and drink our fine wines and generally turn my entire court upside down for a few days.” He sounded vaguely pleased at upsetting the balance of his own court. “But, I’ll be so preoccupied…so busy… I’m always _worried_ about those times…”

Damen knew where this was going. As he chewed a bit of duck, he patted Auguste on the shoulder.

“I understand Auguste. While the Vaskian warlords are here, I’ll keep an eye on him. He’s like a younger brother to me. No one will hurt him, I swear.” Auguste was still a little tense though. “Is…something wrong?”

Auguste leaned in closer. “It’s…merely a rumor. Rot in the apple, so to say…”

Damen had a feeling he already knew who was causing problems.

“A pet claimed the other day that his drink had been spiked with…something… _chalis_ possibly? Luckily, his companions noticed the effect and got him to safety. The culprit is…unknown but everyone, of course, has their suspicions.”

“You wouldn’t want to make any unfounded accusations.” Damen agreed.

“It’s a lot of stress.” Auguste admitted.

However, he seemed confident the morning the Vaskian warlords entered the gates of Arles. If Damen had felt like a savage in his clothes in Vere, he could not imagine the reaction to this entourage, though they did not seem to care. They wore thick leathers and great furs over their muscular bodies, dark blue paint in intricate designs over any bare skin showing. Compared to the tightly laced and slender Veretian court, these people were fearsome indeed.

They sent an approving gaze Damen’s way before greeting the Prince. Above beauty, wealth, and intelligence, the people of Vask valued strength.

Auguste greeted them stiffly but kindly, his Vaskian barely passable.

It was here that Laurent shone as a true testament to his brother. He made no insults or snide remarks, none of his usual fare of infuriating people. Instead, the group of foreigners and his own court gaped, nearly openmouthed, as the beautiful youth before them began to welcome them in flawless Vaskian.

Damen grinned behind his hand as he was introduced to the matriarch.

Everyone always underestimated the kid, thought he was a liar, just a pretty face, and only the second prince to boot.

Even King Aleron looked amazed, as if it was the first time he had seen his second son. He introduced himself to the matriarch of their allies, but---Damen noticed with glee---his Vaskian was inferior to his son’s.

Damen clenched his fists though, when the Vaskian leaders moved on to Auguste’s uncle. Standing with Govart, both of them had also been observing Laurent’s prowess. The uncle smiled wryly, as if a small animal had performed an amusing trick; Govart was staring unashamedly at the length of the boy’s legs. Auguste and Laurent were too busy conversing with the rest of their guests to notice, so Damen decided to fulfill his promise to his friend.

As smoothly as he was able, Damen maneuvered himself in between Auguste and Laurent, crushing the boy up against his side so that he could not be seen by anyone to the left. Damen felt his smile could chip marble at that point.

Despite Laurent’s questioning gaze, Damen did not let him leave his side.

All in all, with the Akielons and the Vaskians, King Aleron was now hosting twenty-five foreign guests and Arles was about to become very comfortable indeed. But if anything, King Aleron had the funds to feed them all.

 

The day began as most others did.

Damen rose a little later than usual thanks to all the hakesh they had been drinking the night before, to find---to his immense surprise---three other men naked in bed next to him. One was obviously a young Vaskian man, beard still growing, but muscles as hard as iron, his blue body paint smudged all over…everything really. The other two, limp and exhausted from what had obviously been a _long_ night, were Veretian pets. Their round asses were a burning pinkish-red from dozens of overlapping handprints and one smelled as though wine had been poured down his body.

There was wine on the floor, stained on the bed, upturned oil bottles made puddles with clear body imprints in their congealed surfaces, and a massive wooden plug carved and sanded into the shape of a cock. From Damen’s practiced eye, it looked as though it had recently been used.

“ _Fuck me_.” Damen murmured clutching his head. From his the feeling in his hips, it felt as though someone had done just that.

Damen groaned as someone knocked at the door. Every sound rattled in his hakesh-addled brain. He managed to get to the door, knocking over a silver tray of half-eaten grapes; he didn’t even care about finding something to cover himself. Only one or two people would dare disturb him.

Auguste looked just as worse for wear, though he laughed when he got an eyeful of Damen.

“My god…what happened to you?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out.” Damen pushed the dark curls out of his eyes. “Would you like to come in?”

Auguste did end up coming in, surveying the chaos with growing amusement. He praised Damen’s stamina to have dealt with three men at once, and when they sat at Damen’s small table, they began to try and piece the night together.

“I think Laurent is the only one who isn’t suffering from a raging hangover.” Auguste admitted. “He doesn’t even drink wine and he roused me for breakfast as normal. _Goddamn_ , those Vaskians can drink. Anyway when you didn’t show up as usual I was sent to fetch you.”

“I think there was an orgy in my room last night.” Damen admitted.

“What makes you say that?” Auguste asked sarcastically, looking at the overfull bed. “I would also imagine by your walk, that those pets aren’t the only ones with a sore ass.” Damen grinned at that one.

“Are there any plans for today?” Damen asked. He had remembered most of the Veretian court drinking heavily the previous night.

“Good god no.” Auguste responded. “I am going to finish my breakfast and bathe for a good two hours. I refuse to fight you today, because I don’t think I can handle the sound of swords hitting each other. Also, Laurent wants to eat lunch at midday if you feel well enough to join.”

Damen nodded. “I think I’ll bathe with you too. We’ll let them sleep off whatever I’ve done to them.”

“I didn’t know you enjoyed someone screwing you.” Auguste commented as they picked their way out of Damen’s quarters.

“I’ve tried a little of everything.” Damen admitted.

There was barely anyone out in the halls of Arles that morning. Some servants were cleaning the halls from the night before and one or two Vaskians who looked remarkably fresh despite the party that had occurred. Surprisingly, Auguste and Damen also ran into a disgruntled-looking Govart. Damen narrowed his eyes when he saw that the man was carrying a pitcher of water and a glass on an empty tray. Damen had never forgotten Laurent’s warning.

Auguste was courteous. “Govart. What brings you here after such a long night?”

Despite Auguste’s undeserved kindness to this brute of a man, Govart only spoke to him with barely concealed contempt. “Your Majesties. I’m on business for your uncle. Important enough to rouse me from my sleep.” His words were dripping with sarcasm and Damen was torn hoping that he would be foolish enough to attempt to drug Auguste’s uncle.

“I see.” Auguste smiled; Damen didn’t know how he could remain so civil. “I won’t keep you from your duties. Damianos and I must bathe for a few hours to refresh ourselves.”

Govart took this news in with a bow and an insincere grin.

As Damen watched that blunt, square form lumber away he could not keep abject dislike from seeping into his expression. “He’s a special breed of rude. I don’t know how you can be so…so calm around him.” Auguste shrugged.

“I suppose I have learned to be diplomatic over the years.”

“If only Laurent would learn.”

Laurent himself was waiting in Auguste’s room, finishing off his small breakfast. He looked the same as normal, and glanced up at his brother’s return. He choked a bit on his drink when he saw Damen.

“I don’t know if you’ve been made aware…but you are _covered_ in blue paint.”

Damen rolled his eyes. “Ha ha. I’m here to fix that, cheeky brat.”

Laurent looked up at Auguste. “You’re going to bathe?”

“Yes. Are you going to join, or are you going straight to the library?” Auguste asked ruffling his brother’s hair fondly.

“Library.” Laurent responded. “Father seemed pleased with my Vaskian, so I’ll take the time to learn more about them. Who knows, maybe I’ll discover the cure for a hakesh hangover.”

“If you do, I’ll officially proclaim you the hero of Arles.” Auguste responded.

“I’ll be there shortly.” Damen told Laurent. “The library is the quietest place in your palace.” Laurent rolled his eyes at Damen’s reasons, but nodded in assent. Leaving Laurent to finish his breakfast, the two elder princes sank thankfully into the boiling hot water.

The two of them mostly spent their time in the tub trying to piece together the previous evening. It had started, as usual, with a feast. At the beginning only wine was served with dinner and Laurent had taken wicked enjoyment in the fact that the Veretian pets were not at all popular with the new guests. In fact, the Vaskians seemed more interested in the Veretian soldiers and, as a result, the pets sulked. Then, when everyone had become pleasantly drunk, the Vaskian had broken out barrels of their own homemade alcohol: hakesh. It was wicked stuff; infused with wild herbs, it also had hallucinogenic effects in the liquor, so many people simply lost their inhibitions.

Apparently Damen had been one of them.

“I’m just glad I didn’t wake up with anyone next to me in bed.” Auguste admitted. “Though it did seem like I tried to wrestle one of my houseplants. It appeared that I won. Anyway, I assume, aside from my meeting with the councilors and Vaskian leader this afternoon, _everyone_ is going to be out of commission today.”

Damen stood, his brain and soreness having been pleasantly overcooked by the steam and warm water. He had spent a half hour in the water, but Auguste showed no inclination to move.

“I’m going to go to the library now.” He explained, patting his waterlogged limbs dry. “Try not to drown in your bath.”

Auguste did not even bother to open his eyes. “A luxury I cannot afford.”

After lacing himself into his clothes, Damen walked leisurely through the halls. Even though it was almost past noon, he only saw two or three people in the normally bustling corridors. That hakesh had really done a number on the Veretian court. It was almost eerie, how empty it was.

And there was absolutely no one around the library.

Damen could hardly blame them. After a long night of partying, he could not think of many who would choose to spend the next morning reading. In fact, the only one he could think of was already inside.

The heavy oak doors to the library were closed and Damen opened them very carefully to avoid making them squeak. He planned to enter as he normally did: silently, so that he could dump an armful of paper flowers on Laurent’s head. By now, Laurent just glared up at him in silent rage.

Much to his surprise, however, Damen did hear a low voice murmuring from somewhere in the maze of shelves

He shrugged. It was not impossible for other people to have found shelter there. At one point in the past Damen had even stumbled upon a pair of lovers taking advantage of the nearly empty room; Laurent had not been amused. He would already be annoyed then, now that he did not have the place to himself.

Damen grinned at the thought.

Still carefully, he picked his way to where Laurent had been reading the day before. He often left stacks of books to mark his favorite spots.

With another chuckle, Damen realized Laurent’s irritation would be increased tenfold, as apparently one of the hakesh-drunk partygoers had made their way into the library that night. Stacks of books had been upended and thrown about the room, chairs were knocked over, and there was some unnamed liquid staining the carpet. The Little Scholar would probably be livid.

He turned the corner to Laurent’s normal spot and was surprised to see the aisle empty.

It had not been saved from ravishment; the carefully stacked books had been toppled aside carelessly and a small pile of folded paper flowers had been crushed underfoot. Damen felt a twinge of regret seeing his hard work destroyed.

Where was Laurent?

Damen began to look down each row for the kid, noticing carnage throughout most of the next shelves. Getting closer to the person talking in a hushed voice, Damen wondered if Laurent was chatting with the interloper. Maybe it was one of the Vaskians.

“Laurent?”

There was a sound and Damen rounded the furthest shelf from the door. His heart stopped.

Time was moving very slowly, that or Damen was moving too quickly. He could hear his heartbeat throbbing in his ears as he processed what he saw before him. No one could mistake those massive, square shoulders in this lean, slender court.

Govart’s expression was quite a mix; there was anger over the interruption, horror at having been caught, and some sort of shiny hunger in his eyes. There was a bruise over his left eye and he was breathless as if he had been running…or chasing…

Laurent was pinned beneath him, also equally out of breath, his face white and eyes enormous. Both of his slim wrists were caught in one of Govart’s meaty hands while the other held a slim dagger. So far the only casualty of said knife were the laces of Laurent’s shirt and pants; he was exposed from neck to navel, but his clothes were still mostly intact. To Damen’s sheer amazement, Laurent was not crying.

The three of them stood there, frozen with shock.

It was Laurent who broke the silence, his voice breaking with both fear and relief. “Damianos, help me.”

He needed no further invitation. Govart before had challenged him to a ‘friendly’ match, but this situation was no longer friendly. So Damen did not hold back. Uncaring of the knife, he launched his full weight at Govart, bowling the man over so that he relinquished Laurent. In Akielos, Damen had been trained as a soldier and he was more than capable of killing an enemy. He _wanted_ to kill…

The knife was dropped in the scuffle and Damen, despite his red-eyed fury, was perfectly coherent. He had Govart pinned under him now, as the man had pinned Laurent before, and now began to mercilessly throw expert punches. He heard ribs cracking under his skillful fists and then he moved to the face, pounding squarely into the nose and mouth. Teeth and bone shattered, Damen felt the skin over his knuckles splitting, but he didn’t feel any pain. He only felt cold rage. He hit methodically, as hard as he could, until Govart stopped trying to defend himself and went limp on the floor, gargling blood.

Damen let his fists uncurl, blood dripping down his wrists.

He turned to check on Laurent. The boy appeared calm, but Damen knew better. His already wide eyes were enormous with shock, and he had crushed himself into the corner, Govart’s discarded knife in his tiny hands.

“Laurent.”

The knife dropped and the kid bolted into Damen’s chest, Damen wrapping him securely in his arms. Laurent never let anyone see him cry…

As Damen petted that blond head in attempt to soothe the boy, he thought hard. The mess was not from a drunkard, but Laurent fighting; Govart’s bruise was probably from an accurately thrown book. Damen remembered, not without burning anger, the looks Govart had been shooting at the boy, the conversation he had with Damen and Auguste earlier. Probably with everyone hungover and Damen and Auguste in the bath for hours (by their own admission), he must have seen Laurent and considered it the best opportunity. Rot in the apple…

Gently, Damen pulled Laurent’s face from his chest to survey it. Laurent’s eyes were red.

“I didn’t ask to look like this.” He said bitterly. Damen wiped any wetness off those beloved cheeks with his thumbs. “H-he said I _seduced_ him; that I was too beautiful. But I didn’t want him to touch me. I…I _hate_ him.”

“I know.” Damen’s voice was flat and calm. “I know, Laurent.”

“Why d-does nobody believe me? Why am I never safe?”

Damen could not take it anymore he was so sorrowful and furious on behalf of this poor kid. He was going to fix this somehow. He cradled the boy gently again, rocking him as he came up with a plan. It wouldn’t be good to make a scene, _especially_ since the biggest casualty was the bodyguard of Laurent’s uncle…

For a moment, Damen gripped Laurent closer, wondering…if…would his uncle stoop so low to encourage this?

He needed Aleron and Auguste in this library.

It was a good thing Laurent was still slender, as Damen could easily hoist him into the air, kicking Govart’s limp body to the side. He picked up the dagger as well; he would be astonished and upset with himself if the beast didn’t piss blood for the next three weeks, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Damen set Laurent down outside the door to the library, and cleared the hair out of his eyes the soothing way he had seen Auguste do. “Laurent. I need to go.”

His slim hands were strong in fear. “You’re leaving me.”

Damen’s chest ached and he kissed Laurent’s furrowed forehead. “I’m coming back. I’ll run the fastest I’ve ever run. I’m going to get your brother.” Laurent visibly relaxed at the mention of Auguste.

“But…” Laurent could help himself and glanced back at the library. It had been his only safe haven.

Damen pulled his cheeks so that they were eye to eye. “I promised you. Any person who was giving you attention you don’t like…I’d fix it. I’m going to help you, Little Scholar. He’s not going to touch you again.” Laurent’s normally hostile eyes were guileless with his fear, but he finally nodded.

Damen pressed the dagger into his hands and took off running.

To speak nothing of his huge body in full charge, his face must have been truly alarming, for King Aleron---who had been eating a late lunch with his brother and the Vaskian leader---asked no questions when Damen burst through his door without so much as a knock and demanded he go to the library immediately.

Damen had scrutinized the uncle.

He looked unperturbed. He looked as if it was a normal occurrence, for a foreign madman to interrupt his lunch. There was a soft, indulgent smile on his lips and Damen wanted to hurl wild accusations.

Somehow he _knew_. He knew this cunning man had cultivated Govart’s lust: pointed out signs that weren’t there, made note of Laurent’s exceptional looks…and lied…always lied. But, there was no proof, so Damen was forced to turn as quickly as he had come and search for Auguste.

His friend was still in the bath and needed even less information to spring into action.

Damen practically smashed down his door, Auguste took one look at his blood-drenched arms and decided, open mouthed, to jump out of the water and throw on the closest piece of clothing available. And the two of them, within eight minutes of Damen first leaving Laurent alone, were sprinting back to the library.

Auguste truly had exceptional self-control.

He took it all in. The disarray of the library, in what had obviously been a scuffle. The presence of his father, his uncle, and the somehow-conscious, but bloodied Govart. And Laurent, head held high in defiance, despite the fact that his entire torso was bared. Auguste did not crack, but Damen knew there was murderous, red rage underneath that composure.

Laurent’s voice was calm. “Father, this man attacked me.”

Govart began spewing angrily, blood snaking out of his mouth with every shout. “He _asked_ me! He’s been flirting for months, goddamn it!” Laurent didn’t flinch but his hands were shaking. “He made it clear he wants me!”

Damen reminded himself to cut out his tongue if he ever got another chance at the man.

“He attacked me.” Laurent said. “I…don’t have any interest in…”

King Aleron’s glare was withering. “The two of you have made a scene in front of our Vaskian and Akielon dignitaries.” Laurent’s shoulders slumped a little. “My son, I have heard the most distasteful rumors about you; I can only hope that they are not true. Auguste has never given me such trouble.”

Auguste’s eyes closed in pain. Laurent did not cry.

Their uncle gauged the Prince’s reactions with cold contemplation…

Damen decided to step forward. He slid Laurent behind him so that the kid was out of the line of fire. “Your Majesty, Laurent is not lying. He and I had plans to study together this afternoon. When I arrived, Govart was paying the Prince rough court. I take full blame for his injuries and for interrupting your luncheon.”

Laurent’s uncle raised an eyebrow at this speech while Govart glared at him from under swollen eyelids. However, Aleron patted Damen on the shoulder.

“You are a good man, Damianos. I thank you for intervening on behalf of my troublesome son.” Laurent’s shoulders began to shake. “Auguste, I’ll leave the decision of punishment to you.”

Govart seemed shocked. He was so used to being protected by his position that he probably didn’t think he would ever be punished. Or that Damen’s beating was punishment enough.

Auguste locked eyes with him.

Damen’s beating was _not_ punishment enough for Auguste. For the attempted rape of his brother, Auguste wanted the pleasure of punishment all to himself. It would be the whipping block, without a doubt. Auguste would deliver each lash personally and with relish.

Damen was beginning to see, truly see, the weakness in the Veretian court. Aleron loved his son Auguste but did not understand Laurent, on top of the boy being too quick to argue. The king was too reliant on his brother, he was very gullible to lies, and disliked losing face in front of others. In other words, he was a good king, but a poor father.

Laurent was too ashamed to even let his beloved brother see him.

So Damen pulled him off to the side as the guards came to drag off the screaming Govart. Auguste followed them like a man possessed. He wouldn’t want it, so Damen refused to look at Laurent’s face, pressing it up against his shoulder. He had an idea to make his life a whole lot easier.

“Little Scholar.” He whispered, stroking strands of blond hair.

“I’m…tired of it…” Laurent’s voice was barely audible. Damen felt if Laurent were alone facing this abuse he would kill himself or end up very twisted indeed. But he was not alone.

“Little Scholar, I’m going to give you a gift.” Damen rested his cheek on Laurent’s head. “Something only I can give you. No one can take it away from you. No one will ever be able to touch you again.”

Laurent’s head lifted up and his blue eyes were flat with disbelief. “What’s that?”

Damen looked at him with fondness, wishing that this kid was his blood brother. He pressed his forehead against Laurent’s, the way he did with Auguste. “You cheeky brat, I’m going to teach you how to fight.”


	9. Year 15 (Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had a satisfying weekend! My update is a little late because of all the holiday cheer, but this is a sweet chapter to break up the more tragic parts. And Auguste finally gets some relief...
> 
> Shoutout to everyone who has viewed and commented on my story! Over 3000 hits; ya'll are amazing :)

** Vere: Year 15 (Part 3) **

There was a huge group clustered around the area devoted to swordplay. Vaskian men and women chattering in their own language, but delighted with any thought of violence, sat alongside Damen and Auguste’s soldiers. The only ones not sitting or standing around the edge were Pallas, chosen for his consistently gentle expression, Damen, and Laurent.

Laurent held a wooden practice sword with a novice’s grasp, his grip like it was his only lifeline. He was as nervous as he had been his first day swimming.

It didn’t help that people were shouting their own recommendations from the sidelines.

“Your stance is too wide Your Highness!” “Don’t be so tense; Pallas is gentle!” “Lazar can attest to that!” “Don’t be afraid of the wood, Your Majesty, it won’t cut. It’ll just bruise.” “Your grip is too tight!” “He’s right! Grip it loosely, like you’d hold your cock, Your Highness!”

There was a burst of laughter at this ribald talk and Laurent’s hands shook a little.

Damen turned back to their onlookers, and Nikandros and Auguste both subtly inclined their heads toward the same man. Easily, Damen plucked the practice sword from Laurent’s hands and flung it backwards with deadly speed and accuracy. He heard the satisfying sound of wood hitting bone and the yelp of the man who had made the inappropriate comment.

There was louder laughter this time around.

Damen went to fetch the sword and pointed it fake-menacingly at all the people present. “ _I_ am the instructor here. If any of you can best me with a blade, then by all means you can give the young prince advice. In the meantime, be quiet.”

Shaking his head at their lack of tact, Damen walked back over to Laurent and put the sword back in his hand. He pressed himself flush against Laurent, adjusting the grip on his sword. Laurent’s pulse was lightning fast.

“Relax.” Damen ordered gently. “Treat the sword like it’s an extension of your arm. Like it’s attached to your bone. Don’t let it go unless you absolutely must.”

“I understand.”

Damen made minor adjustments to his stance, pushing his legs apart, placing his arms in the correct position. He had a lot to teach this kid in a very short amount of time. “We’re going to start with basic stances and thrusts. And you’ll have to practice these daily so your body can get used to it.”

“But…I’m not good at sports.” Damen did not like it when Laurent sounded so defeated; he liked the kid defiant and witty.

“That is just what people have said about you. As I recall, you are a deadly shot with an encyclopedia.” Damen responded dryly and was rewarded with a small smile from Laurent. “Now let’s get to work attacking Pallas.”

As Damen and Pallas began to teach Laurent the basics of swordplay, their audience dwindled until only Auguste and Lazar remained.

To be fair, it was not very interesting to watch a novice perform the same stances and thrusts over and over again, even if the novice was the pretty young prince. Damen wanted Laurent to wake up stiff and sore the next morning, with the muscle memory of the moves burned into his brain. It was boring, but necessary; he would be able to spar properly when he learned what Damen could teach him.

Pallas had been an excellent choice. He was the most patient and gave praise easily.

When their training, by Damen’s order, had completed, Laurent collapsed into the dirt of the arena with a flushed face and jellied limbs. Auguste gave a round of applause and a pitcher of water.

“Brother…” Laurent gasped in between desperate gulps. “When did…you start…doing this?”

Auguste thought. “Since I could stand?”

“And you?” Laurent glared at Damen.

“Same.”

“Well…” Laurent grinned his wide wicked smile. “The good thing is…I learn quicker than the both of you…combined.”

Damen smiled at his returned fire. Laurent had recovered remarkably well; his ability to adapt was his greatest weapon at this point. And the threat had been eliminated thanks to his older brother.

Damen had not seen the actual punishment take place, as he had personally been lacing Laurent into a fresh set of clothes. But the men who watched said Auguste’s face had been apathetic, almost angelic, save for his eyes. They had burned like the mouth of hell, as he had raised his arm again and again, laying Govart’s back open, vengeance for his brother. The Prince, in all his mercy, had brought the brute to the brink of death before demanding his exile, dropping the whip without a second glance behind him.

The men now had a healthy fear on top of their respect for Auguste.

None of the men were particularly upset to see Govart leave, and when they heard that the man had been caught sexually assaulting Laurent, most had curbed their lewd comments about him. A solid ass-kicking from Damianos and a brutal whipping from Auguste was not worth a few careless words.

Damen stretched his muscles, excited for an actual bout---maybe with Auguste to help him relieve more stress.

“Laurent, will you rest for a while?” Damen asked hoisting the boy to his feet.

He was not so tightly laced as usual. Veretians fought in outfits that were more open to allow for a greater range of motion, and the entire back of his shirt was plastered to his sweaty back. In a certain way, he looked even better with a bloom of color in his cheeks.

“I…don’t have that luxury.” He responded icily.

Damen grinned. He would excel in no time with that attitude. Most children started swordplay young so he had a lot of catching up to do… Damen motioned Lazar forward, asking him to take his place while he sparred with Auguste.

Auguste nodded in acknowledgement and stood.

He had not been able to speak with Auguste alone since their chat in the bathtub yesterday; Auguste had been distant the previous night and Damen felt wrong intruding when Auguste and Laurent went to bed early that night. There were just some things that needed to remain between brothers.

Auguste walked and walked…past the practice arenas and stables, to the very edge of the ancient apple orchards of Arles. It was there he stopped.

Damen withdrew his sword in a hiss of metal. “So…shall we fight? Or talk?” Auguste turned a little. “Or we could talk while we fight.”

He half expected Auguste’s response, steeling himself for impact as Auguste slammed his own sword at Damen. It was primitive, brutal fighting; Auguste was not holding anything back because he knew Damen could take it. Their bodies slammed up against one another, and blades barely nicked skin, not to mention the bark of the old apple tree. Damen grunted as he was pushed hard against the trunk of the tree. He yelped and ducked as Auguste threw a punch, his fist hitting hard where Damen’s nose had been. His white knuckles scraped against the bark, leaving long bleeding scratches.

Somehow in the scuffle, Auguste’s sword was left forgotten, embedded in the poor tree, while Damen had tossed his far to the side. Auguste had begun to throw wild punches, and Damen stopped them holding his fists steady in the air so they were stuck grappling. Auguste’s face was sweaty and furious, his blond hair escaping from the tie that usually held it.

Quick as a viper, his leg slid out, knocking Damen off balance. Damen’s back hit the dirt and Auguste’s weight hit his chest. He was out of his mind; his teeth gritted and fist held aloft, about to deliver a blow with all his strength.

Damen realized…it was the only way he was going to vent. The only way to calm Auguste was to take this blow. So he leaned back and closed his eyes. Waiting…

It was the first time Auguste would have bested him at sparring.

Instead Damen felt him slump, his fists dropping limply onto Damen’s chest, and he opened his eyes. Auguste looked pained, as though someone was torturing him, like he was about to scream or cry and was trying desperately to hold it in. These pitiful brothers...

Damen slowly sat up and cupped Auguste’s head in his hands, pressing his forehead against his friend’s.

Auguste gripped Damen’s hands. “My god…I thought when my uncle…molested…I though that was…the worst pain…but now…” He was very much like his brother: no matter how painful the emotions were, he did not let single tear fall. “I-I told him…that we wouldn’t be out for _hours_! _I did it_! God…It’s…I left him alone!” He pressed his face hard into his bleeding hands and his Veretian became nearly inaudible. “My brother, my baby brother…Laurent how I failed you…”

Damen breathed very softly, very deliberately because he too was in pain.

Deep down, Auguste probably knew it was not his fault. It was not his fault that his uncle was a monster, or his father was weak-willed. It was not his fault that Govart had assaulted Laurent or that he had to keep up appearances as a Crown Prince. But Auguste, despite all his power as the future king, could not change any of this. So he blamed himself.

Auguste’s hair had come down out of its’ tie, long and unrestrained and so beautifully golden, and Damen began to run his hands through it. He murmured deep in his chest in Akielon.

“My friend, finest of men. The world rests so heavy on your shoulders. I’ll not let you be crushed by it.”

They sat like that for ages, foreheads pressed together while Damen practically chanted in Akielon. They waited until their shared pain dulled into a soft throb deep in the chest. Auguste was shuddering as if he had been crying, but all at once he gave a deep sigh and when he opened his eyes…

Ever since he had run into that library, all the emotion had gone out of his eyes; they had become flat pools of all-encompassing hatred. But now they were natural again, deep and emotional. Damen smiled at the sight of them.

Without speaking, and as if nothing had happened, both of them broke apart from their trance, stood to retrieve their swords, and began to walk back towards the practice fields. It must have been very therapeutic for Auguste to let himself loose in such a way and not lose face in front of his subjects.

For once, Damen didn’t mind losing a fight.

 

As an unusual change of pace for Damen, the entire Veretian court decided to spend time in the traditional winter palace near the border town of Fortaine. Since it was so close to Akielos, it was balmier in the winter season, and the court usually spent a few months out of the frigid winters there, far from the Northern capital and from the mountains separating them from Vask. The ocean was nearby, but it was flanked by high, dangerous cliffs, making fishing or swimming all but impossible; instead people took advantage of lush forests and enormous lakes. Damen quite liked this new landscape.

Nearing the end of his second trip to Vere, it would also make his trip home much shorter. Here at the border towns he was reminded of his own country, as the culture was mixed, and it actually made him a little homesick.

He was currently in the courtyard of the ‘home’ of Councilor Guion; the councilors technically were the stewards of the kings’ households throughout Vere, but it was basically like he was hosting them in his own home. The soldiers and a great many lesser nobles could not fit, however, and were forced to lodge in the old fort, which was only a fifteen-minute walk away.

He was waiting for Auguste and Laurent so they could walk to said fort and begin their daily training.

He looked up at the sound of footprints and wanted to groan aloud.

Auguste was surrounded by Guion’s three eldest sons, attempting to be polite and attentive while they all demanded his attention. Guion was an ambitious social climber, well-known throughout the court for using any resources at his disposal to become close to the king. It looked as though his sons had inherited their father’s hunger for political influence.

They held no interest for Damen.

The three of them were soldiers but they were boisterous and arrogant, and none of them could even come close to beating him in a fight. And none of them were attractive either: plain in the face, with the same mousy hair and boring conversation topics.

He didn’t know how Auguste could stand to be so patient.

And to complete the set of annoyances, Guion had provided one final son to trail Laurent.

He was a bit unlike his brothers, however. For the first thing, he was a good five years younger than his brothers, being only about thirteen or fourteen years old. He was also silent the majority of the time and he was a pretty, sweet thing. His name was Aimeric and it seemed as though Laurent only tolerated him because of his silence. He was never more than two or three steps behind Laurent.

When the entire chattering group reached Damen, he took Auguste by the elbow immediately, talking rapidly in Akielon. For living close to the border, Guion’s sons surprisingly did not speak Akielon. They seemed annoyed to not be included in the conversation.

“How are the parrots?” He asked lightly. Laurent grinned wickedly.

“Don’t be mean,” Auguste chastised both Damen and his brother. “They’re simply excited to have us here.”

“For as much as they love hearing their own voices, I would think they would have a better time interacting with Laurent. I would personally _love_ to see that.” Laurent looked as though he wanted nothing more than to try his hand at exactly that.

Auguste gave them both a withering look. “I would like to leave Fortaine on good terms, thank you. My brother, as you are well aware, takes no prisoners.”

Smoothly, Auguste switched back to Veretian to include his three hangers-on while Damen rolled his eyes at his friend’s indulgence and decided to hang back to converse with Laurent. At least he had some sense.

Little Aimeric had yet to completely hit puberty and ducked to hide behind Laurent at Damen’s approach. Damen didn’t mind, as he was intimidating: strong, tall, and foreign. He had other things to worry about than jumpy boys.

“Little Scholar, how are you surviving here with that tiny library?”

Laurent did look irked. What little bookshelves Guion _did_ have were filled with dusty old accounts of the surrounding villages and the uninteresting journals of the previous councilors. It was no small wonder Laurent spoke of the place with memories of boredom.

“Luckily I get to see a show every day.” He remarked acidly, obviously in regards to Guion’s elder sons. “And I get to spar.”

In the past weeks, Laurent’s skill had skyrocketed.

What he had lacked in strength, he more than made up in sheer determination and love of study. Already the muscles of youth, small and smooth as boiled eggs, had grown on his slender arms.

When they reached the old fort, already a group of local soldiers and guards from Arles had gathered in wait for them. If not for a chance to have the honor of sparring with the elder princes, it was for a chance to knock the younger one in the dirt a few times and watch his pretty face flush red. Damen was pleased to note that it was happening less and less often.

“Little Scholar!” Some of the men hailed him in a mockery of Damen’s gentle nickname.

Auguste was instantly claimed for a match by one of Aimeric’s older brothers while Damen searched among the local men for a partner for Laurent and gave instruction. Aimeric sat silently on a bench and did not seem intent on moving for the rest of the afternoon. Weird kid…

Laurent could now do the very easiest of fights with simple thrusts, parries, and defensive stances and his focus was ironclad. Damen could see the will to win in Laurent’s eyes. Damen could have watched him fight all afternoon.

However, Laurent’s attention broke once, causing him to take a blow that landed him ass-first in the dirt. There were general shouts of shock and laughter at the sight and Damen shut them all up with a glare, walking forward slowly to see if he was ok without embarrassing him.

Laurent had not yet gotten up, which was odd, as he normally bounded to his feet.

Damen crouched beside him, wondering nervously if was _really_ injured and didn’t want to worry anyone. “Laurent, is everything ok?”

Laurent made his face very nonchalant as he leaned on Damen for ‘help’ getting up, but his eyes were narrow and burning with dislike. “As useful as you are for blocking the sun, I believe your superior size and strength could be of use to Aimeric at this moment.”

Damen was very careful to make the glances behind him subtle.

As he rose with Laurent he saw behind him some of the local young soldiers, maybe fifteen or sixteen, bothering Aimeric by yanking at his brown curls and pinching the peachy skin on his cheeks and arms. Apparently the goal was to see who could make him cry first and it seemed as though Aimeric was about to indulge them. Little brats…

Damen patted Laurent on the back before bounding over to where Aimeric was sitting. The boys tried to hide what they had been doing, but Damen was too quick for them. He snatched one brat up by the roots of his hair and the other he began to punch repeatedly in the arm. They both wailed but Damen laughed in reply.

“How does it feel? You like being big?” He switched so that the other boy was up by his hair and he was punching the other one. “Well, I’m bigger than you.” He threw both of them off the bench. “Fucking bullies. I should make you run until you faint…”

The two of them dashed out of sight in shame, jeers taunting them as they left.

Laurent looked vindicated, his sparring taking on a decidedly bubblier step. Damen sat next to Aimeric, who seemed arguably just as embarrassed as his harassers had been.

“Do they do this often?” Damen asked softly. He was afraid if he were too loud he would startle poor Aimeric into running. Aimeric only nodded in response. “Do your brothers tell them to stop?” He shook his head, looking down. “Well…if they bother you again, let your Prince know. If he doesn’t alert me, he’ll deal with the matter personally…which, might actually be more painful.” Aimeric nodded in acknowledgement.

Damen was pleased as he continued to sit next to the cowed Aimeric.

Laurent was truly developing into a fine young man. Although he only appeared to tolerate Aimeric, he was actually guarding him quite carefully. Damen felt as proud as if he had been Laurent’s own older brother.

Damen continued to sit with Fortaine's youngest son, coaching Laurent until he too was asked for a match.

He had been more than pleased to oblige.

His body had become lethargic from sitting too long and the young man who challenged him was one he _wanted_ to see sweaty and panting: gold and sweet as honey with a fine curved waist and what looked to be a soft ass. Plus he was an animal in the fighting ring.

The young man gave Damen such an intense fight that he flamed with desire. Before his group took their leave of the fort, Damen breathlessly let him know that it would be his pleasure to get to know him a little better that evening.

Though he had blushed, the honeyed young man did show up at Guion’s home that night with a bottle of sweet wine and an even sweeter mouth.

Damen’s hands were fumbling at the man’s clothes before they had even arrived at the door to his room, his mouth never ceasing to suck at that clever tongue. The two of them refused to break contact as they stumbled into Damen’s room, the man pulling him in and yanking off his shirt before the door had even shut. His lover moaned in admiration when he saw Damen’s chiseled torso in the light of the oil lamps. Damen worked quickly to relive the man of his clothing.

Damen had just slid his hands down the waist of the trousers he had loosened and cupped two lovely handfuls of the man’s curvaceous ass when someone cleared their throat.

The young man screamed at the sound, leaping behind Damen at the noise.

Damen only groaned.

“It might be a little hard to work out the logistics of this, as the bed is rather narrow and I do not like sharing.” Laurent remarked from where he was perched on Damen’s bed, engrossed in one of Guion’s books. “But by all means, don’t let me stop you from rutting like animals.”

“What are you _doing_ here?” Damen yelled, struggling to fight waves of annoyance.

“Reading, obviously. Or has your lust compromised your vision?”

“Oh my god…” Damen groaned. It was painful being so angry and aroused. His body could not seem to pick an emotion.

“I suppose I’ll not be sleeping here this evening.” The young soldier remarked, recognizing his prince. Still he could not keep bitter disappointment from creeping into his voice.

“I’m sure the bathtub has plenty of room.” Laurent was heartless.

Damen had to take a moment to compose himself. First he had to decide whether he wanted to vent his anger and engage Laurent in a battle of wits or slake his lust with this sweet honeyed man behind him. Laurent grinned while he read, as if he could feel Damen deliberating. Little shit…

“Goddamn it, Laurent…”

Damen linked his fingers through his lovers’ and pulled him towards the tiny bathroom. His cock had won out in the end…

When he emerged, glowing and satisfied, carrying his exhausted lover two and a half hours later, Laurent barely batted an eyelash. The honey-colored man had fainted from Damen’s affections and Damen stripped part of the bed so that he and his lover could sleep on the floor that night. When his lover seemed comfortable, Damen pounced on Laurent, rubbing his knuckles hard against Laurent’s blond scalp.

“You little fucker!” Damen snarled, though he was fighting back laughter.

“You’re the--- _ow!---_ who’s been fucking for the past three hours!”

Damen released him, laughing aloud as he saw the wild mess of Laurent’s hair. “How would you like it if I interrupted you while,” he tried to think of Laurent’s most pleasurable pastime, “while you read?”

“Funny,” Laurent gasped, his eyes blazing, “it seems like you’re interrupting me right now.”

Damen threw his entire weight across Laurent’s body, making sure to crush him under his enormous body. Laurent squawked in protest, only inciting Damen to stretch. “Ahhh…So, Little Scholar, it begs the question: why are you in my room? Why aren’t you sleeping with Auguste?”

“Auguste…has a guest in his room.”

Damen jolted. “Is he---?”

The pretty boy scowled at him. “Of course he’s not tonguing behinds. His tastes will not have changed just by being in Fortaine. Although,” His face took on a devious tint, “I’m sure Councilor Guion’s sons would gladly give a hand for the chance to ‘bow’ for my brother.”

Damen flicked him on the forehead. “Don’t be dirty, cheeky brat.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, you giant animal.”

“Answer my question.”

“I asked Auguste to let Aimeric sleep with him.” Laurent answered quickly. “And I know your next question will be ‘why’, so I will save you the energy and just explain. Aimeric has only just turned thirteen, he has not…developed, and I…am worried.”

Damen had kind of gotten that feeling.

Aimeric was nowhere near the scale of Laurent’s looks, but he was still a pretty child and Laurent knew the dangers of lapsing in a vipers’ den. And Councilor Guion could not be trusted with Laurent’s uncle and his own ambition.

Damen felt, in that moment, that Laurent was going to be a force to be reckoned with. With his intellect, his beauty, and his ability to maneuver social situations to suit his own goals, once he learned to fight properly, Laurent would be nearly unstoppable.

Damen wrapped all of his limbs around Laurent’s slim body, squeezing him in a hug.

He was giving up his own feeling of safety and comfort with his brother so that Aimeric could avoid a horrible fate. His entire court was wrong; he was not a slut or a bitch or a liar. He was so very good.

“You are a good boy, Laurent. You can stay with me as long as you want to protect Aimeric.”

“You are good too.” Laurent responded, the tips of his ears pink.

Damen rolled off of Laurent’s body so that he was lying parallel to the kid. “How so?”

Laurent retrieved his book, the look of sweetness and thoughtfulness disappearing from his face, replaced with his usual cunning wickedness. “Well…I heard your friend screaming it from the bathroom, so…”

Damen whacked him with a pillow.


	10. Year 16 (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2017 everyone! May your year be filled with happiness, health, and lots of really good stories ;)
> 
> We're about halfway through with this one! (Depending on how I feel, the last year may stretch on more than 3 chapters) But thank you all for your love and support!

** Akielos: Year 16 (Part 1) **

This year the kyroi had finished their convocation the week prior and Damen was as restless as any young man could be after being cooped up in the palace for a week and a half. With his father’s express permission and expert dodging of Jokaste and Kastor’s toddling son---who already idolized Damen---Damen had saddled one of his finest chargers and ridden hard for the hills and farmlands outside of the city. With Nikandros, Pallas, Lydos, and Aktis following behind, he scanned the roads for a cloud of dust and those twin flashes of gold.

Damen left a few gold coins in the boughs of a nearby tree after he took some dark grapes off a vine; Laurent and Auguste might want the snack after their journey from Arles, and he popped a few in his mouth as well, feeling his lips staining purple.

The sun was blazing; they were probably miserable in their Veretian riding clothes.

Pallas, nearly as excited as Damen was, saw the cloud of approaching horses first and all of the men dismounted in anticipation. Damen wasn’t sure if it was the ground shaking, or his heart pounding.

Horses skidded to a halt and there were shouts of joy.

Damen was duly aware of Pallas throwing himself like a young maiden into Lazar’s arms before he too was embraced. His hands were gloriously filled with familiar silky golden hair.

Auguste grinned rakishly, enjoying being uninhibited with his friend.

Laurent moved slower, more deliberately, as if unable to let himself go entirely; Damen could hardly blame him for being restrained. Though he did gape in surprise.

It hardly seemed possible that Laurent could have become more alluring in only a single year. But there he stood, now almost the same height as his older brother, and the undeniable body of a man. Though his face was still utterly lovely, swordplay had given him muscles in the arms, legs, and chest that strained against the fabric of his clothing. Still he was slender, more delicate than both Damen and Auguste.

“You cannot call me ‘Little’ Scholar anymore.” Laurent said with a small grin toying at his lips.

As if he were embracing glass, Damen pulled Laurent in for a hug.

In all his years before, he had primarily missed Auguste in their time apart, but after training Laurent and engaging him in mental battles in Vere, Damen found he had missed the younger prince about equally. He had missed protecting the Little Scholar, and it was good to hold him again, even though he was not so small.

“I suppose not.” Damen admitted after he relinquished the young man, looking him up and down again. “But here they still call you the Snow Prince, and that still applies. And my cargo master calls you things I cannot repeat…which also may still apply.”

Laurent grinned like the devil himself.

As they trotted back towards the city of Ios, Damen questioned his guests, his friends, on Laurent’s sword training.

“He’s a monster.” Auguste said lovingly, pushing his brother’s shoulder. Laurent blushed happily at his brother’s compliment, relishing acknowledgment of his physical skills. “He practices almost more than he reads these days and I spar with him personally. He can hold his own with many of my soldiers.” Auguste was veritably swelling with pride and Laurent was flushed red; he was not used to being complimented.

“You had better not be exaggerating Auguste.” Damen warned, passing them each a handful of grapes. “Every person who can fight in Ios will want to challenge him.”

“I like a challenge,” Laurent replied.

“You _are_ a challenge.” Damen countered. “You are also undoubtedly going to be the most intriguing man in all of Ios. I hope you don’t mind suitors.”

Laurent leveled him with a gaze that confirmed Damen’s suspicions: he was going to be an unstoppable force of nature. “I hope you don’t mind enraged and sobbing courtiers.” Auguste laughed. Damen was just excited to see what hell Laurent would unleash on his unsuspecting countrymen.

When their group thundered into the main courtyard, it was Kastor’s son, Timon, who toddled out to them first, still blubbering.

The boy dearly loved horses and knew that Damen was one of the only ones in Ios who would let him ride. So the disappearance of Damen, on horseback, had probably sent the child into hysterics. Damen scooped him up with a sigh, unable to be mad as the toddler sniffled into his tunic.

“Auguste, Laurent…meet my nephew, Timon.”

The boy glanced at them shyly from under his wet eyelashes, but seemed a little nervous around the snow-white foreigners. Honestly, his babyish behavior was the fault of his selfish parents; Kastor and Jokaste left the child to the care of his nursemaids for the most part.

Auguste seemed enchanted with the boy and tried to get him to smile while Laurent was instantly accosted by a group of Akielons, Kastor at the forefront, who all seemed struck dumb by him. Surely, he couldn’t be the caustic blonde bookworm from two years ago…

Damen watched him carefully.

Age and the ability to fight had given Laurent the confidence to appear cool and untouchable, so he ignored them all and waited for Theomedes blessing. Only Kastor was bold enough to approach the icy prince.

Laurent’s expression was impassive as Kastor, ten years older than he was, smiled at him in a way that was meant to flatter as he inclined his head over Laurent’s hand. Damen was beyond irked, but Kastor also did not know what he was getting himself into; Veretians thrived on courtly intrigue and Laurent was a master manipulator. His expression remained gentle, but bored, as he greeted Damen’s elder brother and expertly extricated himself from Kastor’ presence.

Damen smiled to himself and set Timon down at his father’s approach.

Even Theomedes, for all his control, looked amazed at Laurent’s growth. Damen sighed; the next four months would no doubt be filled with a lovestruck populace.

When the reunions had been completed and Timon handed back to his mother, Damen made quick excuses to drag Auguste and---more importantly---Laurent away from their throng of new admirers; he had a feeling the two Veretian princes would want to rest…in their own respective ways.

After they had stripped off their Veretian garb, exchanging it with Akielon tunics, Damen caught Laurent by his slim waist, tossing him over one shoulder in spite of his protests.

Auguste looked confused. “What is---?”

“Cover your eyes, you cheeky brat.” Damen ordered to Laurent who responded with an elbow to the spine. With devilish delight, Damen swung open the doors to Auguste’s private bathroom, watching as his friend flushed scarlet when the steam cleared.

“Are you fucking serious?” Laurent hissed quietly.

Both of them wore nothing but fine golden jewelry and smiles as they bowed low to Prince Auguste. Set to his tastes, one had vitiligo with eye-catching white patches blossoming all over her dark skin while the other had hair that had turned white when she was still a child, making them both quite striking indeed. They had leapt at the chance to make love to Auguste.

“While you bathe, I am taking Laurent back to the library. I’m sure these are the things you’ve missed the most about Akielos. Am I wrong?”

Neither one of the brothers deigned to answer.

Auguste seemed to be transfixed with lust, crossing his legs to hide the telltale swelling between them, while Laurent seemed unwilling to admit that he did want to go the library most.

“The library is best enjoyed without you.” Laurent remarked. “You can stay and watch my brother if you wish.”

“I’ll drop you on your head, so help me…”

To give Auguste his privacy, Damen carefully backed out of the room without dropping Laurent. In fact, he managed to bump Laurent’s blond head against the doorframe, earning him a knee to the chest. He closed the door behind him with a soft laugh.

“Am I to fuck books then?” Laurent asked.

“I wasn’t aware you’d like a woman.” Damen was a little shocked; he had forgotten that he had lost his virginity at sixteen. But he had always considered Laurent a child…

“I would not.” Laurent’s ears were pink. “Are you going to put me down?”

So the Little Scholar liked men…or was celibate. “No. I could carry you like a maiden if you’d like.”

“ _Don’t you dare_.” Laurent snarled.

That was how they entered the library, much to everyone’s shock. Laurent scratching at Damen like a hellcat and Damen laughing as he struggled to keep a solid hold on the struggling prince. No one had ever seen the Crown Prince treat a foreign dignitary in such a way.

At the sight of so many people staring in openmouthed shock, Damen hastily set Laurent on his feet, struggling to hold back bubbles of laughter. Laurent was fuming.

To the pair’s annoyance, Kastor had been lying in wait, not even bothering to pretend he was there to read. His hands were empty. Damen knew that Kastor had not stepped foot in the library since he was a child as his focus had been solely devoted to fucking, finding new people to fuck, sparring, riding, and ordering people around. It looked like he was currently following the second course of action.

Laurent, still a little flustered from Damen’s teasing, simply nodded at Kastor and walked through the library with purpose.

Damen watched with interest as Kastor trailed his lithe form; it looked as though Laurent was looking for something specific. Though he greeted familiar bookkeepers with outward kindness, his brow furrowed slightly as he continued through an entire loop of the library, ending back at Damen empty handed.

“Are you looking for something specific?” Kastor seemed ready to move heaven and earth for his guest as he prepared to call the head librarian over.

Laurent ignored him and directed his question to Damen. “Where…is Isander?”

Damen had completely forgotten about pretty, sweet Isander probably because he had been out of sight for so long.

Damen had selected Isander amongst others to befriend Laurent during his first year here, taking him out of training to be a palace slave. But the moment his legs had lengthened and his body began to mature, the trainer in Ios had taken him back in with the other youths to polish them for their First Nights with the kyroi or some other nobility. Damen watched with some amusement as Laurent’s expression of calm became more and more brittle as he explained the situation.

Kastor was most unhelpful, constantly interrupting Damen with thinly veiled compliments about Laurent’s beauty. Laurent ignored him for the most part.

“Take me to him.” Laurent ordered. He looked quite angry from Damen’s view.

Wanting to see what sort of mayhem Laurent was going to cause, Damen was more than willing to lead Laurent and a small group of curious onlookers over to the slave’s quarters. Damen had to hand it to Kolnas, the steward of said quarters, despite the fact that it was long before dinner and that he was faced down by a group headed by the most beautiful prince in living memory, he kept his face smooth and professional.

Laurent gave the man a cool once-over and crossed his arms. “I am Prince Laurent of Vere.”

Kolnas looked at Damen with barely controlled shock in his eyes. If he had been Akielon, anyone would have assumed he was Damen’s lover and not a prince by his own right. Damen inclined his head softly in agreement.

“Your Majesty,” the steward took on his typical air of obsequiousness when Laurent’s identity was confirmed. “It is my pleasure, I did not recognize you… How may I assist you? Are you looking for someone specific?”

“I am looking for Isander.”

Kolnas thought for only a split second and then gave Laurent a nervous smile. “Ah…Your Majesty…erm, Isander is still in training. He is still very…unpolished and I fear he would insult Your Majesty’s discerning tastes.” Mistake number one; Damen cringed inwardly as he gently challenged Laurent’s choice. “If you would allow me to make other selections that would please you better?”

Laurent smiled in what appeared to be kindness. “Damianos, are you aware that your master of pets does not understand even simple phrases in Akielon?”

Damen breathed in. _Here we go_ …

Kolnas looked appalled. “Y-Your Majesty, I was…born and _raised_ in Akielos, I assure you---.”

Mistake number two: now he had engaged in an argument.

Laurent crossed his fingers in a feigned look of shock and amusement. “I find that hard to believe! Surely a man who was born in Akielos and is working for the Crown Prince himself in Ios would not have the gall nor the disrespect to refuse a guest of your country. And _surely_ a man who spoke fluent Akielon would not mince the request of a foreign prince who does not even have a full handle on the language himself.” _Liar_ , Damen thought with growing enthusiasm. People were whispering now and Laurent’s eyes were glowing at the tongue-lashing he was delivering. “Far be it from me to judge the quality of the Akielon servants, but I find it hard to believe that a man of your position could have such trouble granting this _one request_ unless he was not proficient in the language.”

By now everyone was in some state of amazement.

Laurent was still calm, sleek and beautiful but there was a determination burning in his eyes; he was not leaving until he got Isander. His captive audience, including Kastor, were in awe of how vicious this lovely, foreign prince was and Kolnas looked torn between shame and burning anger about having been insulted so thoroughly to accusations he could not deny.

Damen was struggling not to laugh out loud.

“Perhaps I was foolish for putting my affairs in the trust of a middle man. Damianos,” Laurent fixed Damen with a look that might have been flirtatious coming from anyone else; Damen’s heart actually did palpitate until he remembered that this kid was a fiesty brat. “I would request the use of a slave from your household. I will pay for him in gold if you won’t gift him to me.”

Kastor looked as though he was about to interrupt and offer to buy Isander for Laurent, but Damen silenced him with a raised hand.

“Will you be so kind and fetch Isander? We’ll leave faster that way.”

“Of course, Exalted One. It would be…my _honor_.” Kolnas bowed hastily in assent to Damen and cast Laurent a look that only barely covered what was sure to be murderous rage. Laurent smiled sweetly to add insult to injury.

“And you were worried about me having too many suitors.” Laurent murmured.

“Now I am worried that I will have a court filled with masochists.” Damen replied gazing with concern at his elder brother and several of his noblemen.

When the steward returned with Isander in tow, Laurent stood up a little straighter. Isander looked a little confused at the steward’s bad mood, as slaves were very sensitive to emotions and social cues, but his worry made him look sweeter. Honestly, Damen thought, given a year or two he would have liked to bed the boy, even though his coloring was not to his tastes.

Slave training had given him innocence and a willingness to please that suited his wide eyes and graceful limbs. When his eyes fell on Laurent, he smiled sweet enough to break a man’s heart before he remembered his training and sank to his knees.

“Y-Your Majesty…I am… _honored_ …”

Damen heard people whispering that the young Prince had impeccable taste.

Laurent ignored them all and finally displayed a genuine expression of soft joy, laying one hand on Isander’s black curls. Isander practically shuddered with exaltation at the touch and, without raising his head, took Laurent’s other hand and kissed his fingertips, palm, and wrist.

It was so very erotic, Damen could practically feel everyone around him quake.

Gently, as gentle as Laurent could be, he crouched down to Isander’s level. It was a scandalous gesture: a prince putting himself at the same standing as a slave, and Isander was well aware of this. He sank lower, pressing his head against Laurent’s sandals.

“I am not worthy…” Isander’s voice was muffled.

Laurent spoke in Veretian, which somehow sounded soothing and intimate. “I have great need of you. Please accept my hand.” Damen realized he was the only one present who spoke Veretian and his heart pounded a little.

When Laurent finally managed to get Isander to stand, his expression had become business-like. He also switched back to Akielon. “I need you to assist me in the library. You will answer to me and no one else, do you understand?” Unlike his statements in Veretian, this was an order and not a request.

Isander nodded, in ecstasy over being ordered by the prince.

The two of them walked a little ahead of the rest of the group in an unusual intimacy that no else one could seem to break through, not even Damen. He walked with Kastor, a steadying hand on his brother’s shoulder to keep him from attempting to monopolize Laurent. Kastor, never good at hiding his desires, stared at the two of them with unabashed lust.

Damen made sure his voice was quiet so that none of the other noblemen could hear them. “Brother, your staring is most unnerving.”

Kastor got that devious look in his eye he used to use with Damen when the two of them would spot a beauty at dinner. “And yet I cannot seem to tear my eyes away…I knew he would be ethereal. Can you imagine? If you got the pair of them…” Kastor’s hungry eyes were fixated on the youthful legs in front of him.

Damen purposefully dug his nails into Kastor’s shoulder, causing his brother to yelp in pain.

“I told you to leave Prince Laurent alone.” He made his tone sharp with anger. “He’s sixteen. You leave him alone brother, or I’ll geld you myself.”

Kastor’s eyes flashed with jealousy. “Is he your lover?”

Damen desperately wished he could shout. “Will that make you give up your obsession? I love him as dearly as a brother. You cannot handle him Kastor.” His heart swelled with fondness for Laurent and the prickliness of his protective nature.

“Any shrew can be tamed…”

Damen felt rage, unlike any he had felt since beating Govart, pulse through his heart. The thought of it was enough to make him consider beating his own blood brother. He leaned very close to Kastor’s ear. “I cannot stop you from courting him. But, so help me _gods_ , if you touch him before his eighteenth birthday, I’ll tie you to the whipping post myself. I’ll _laugh_ as his brother flays your back. Mind yourself Kastor; he is not yours to tame.”

The thought of a ‘tamed’ Laurent upset him.

The boy was not himself when he wasn’t fighting. His intellect and sharp tongue were more intriguing than his beauty and without them…he would not be…himself. Damen liked that fire, even though most others seemed to hate it.

Kastor looked at him accusingly. “I don’t believe that you don’t want him.”

“You don't have to believe it.” Damen muttered, watching Laurent smile, ever so softly at Isander. “But you will believe that I’ll protect him…”

The conversation with Kastor ended there but it bothered Damen through the rest of the evening. During dinner, he could not focus on the food or on Auguste’s shameless flirting or the fact that Jokaste was glaring at Kastor because he was gazing at Laurent. It bothered him while everyone was selecting a lover for the evening and he left alone to bathe and think. It bothered him until there was a soft knock on his door.

Confused, Damen wrapped his lower half in a towel, and padded to the door. He already had plenty of wine and the lamps were lit, so he couldn’t imagine why a servant would be disturbing him this late in the evening.

When he opened the door, a slim figure pushed past him without so much as greeting.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me.” Laurent remarked from where he was now perched on Damen’s bed as if he owned it. He stretched his legs, shapely with muscle, as he began to thumb through the book he brought with him.

Damen sighed as he closed his door. “Only you would be so rude.”

He wandered over to his chest of drawers as Laurent got comfortable in the bed, allowing the sheet to slip from around his waist. The sea breeze from the open balcony dried his hair and skin and he inwardly cursed the kid for intruding; he preferred to sleep in the nude…

He thought he felt eyes boring into his back as he threw on his loose sleeping shirt, but when he turned, Laurent was engrossed with his book.

“Don’t you have a room of your own?” Damen complained after settling on the bed. Now that he was near grown, Theomedes would surely have given Laurent his own quarters. And he would have thought fighting would have given Laurent the fearlessness to sleep alone. “You need not worry about Auguste’s…liaisons. Or anyone in my court for that matter.”

Laurent raised one arched brow. “I’m not worried. It’s a…habit.”

Damen groaned. “I fear I’ll never be rid of you at this point.”

“Funny,” Laurent said flipping another page, “That the future king, the sun of Akielos would fear a prince made of snow.”

Damen scooted closer, recognizing the binding of the book. “Is that my book of folk tales?” It was confirmed when Laurent’s ears flushed pink. Damen was pleased that he liked the stories so much.

“Isander helped me find it.”

“Oh yes, where is Isander?”

Laurent’s expression became unreadable. “He…well, I told him he could do as he liked. He seemed taken with Orlant, my brother’s man, but…he refused to move from my side. And I believe he will end up sleeping back in the slaves’ quarters tonight. It appears that the freedom of choice is new to him.”

Damen smiled softly. “Yes well…in Akielos they are not nearly as brazen as your Veretian pets. They would never dream of calling my hair mousy.” Laurent laughed in spite of himself at the memory. “Do you like Isander?”

“Well enough.” Laurent replied when he had composed himself.

“That’s not what I mean.” Damen grinned rakishly as he ruffled Laurent’s soft hair; the boy’s ears turned red. “I mean…you’re a growing young man. Do you… _desire_ him?”

He thought that perhaps Laurent’s expression when mentioning Isander and Orlant was youthful jealousy.

Laurent’s neck was now pink as well. “I…dislike this topic of conversation…”

He seemed serious, so Damen backed off. “I’m sorry. I won’t pry. But, I just want you to know that Isander will do anything for you, if you wish it…”

The expression returned. “No…I-I don’t want that. That’s what I’m trying to avoid.” Laurent began to twist his hands as he did when he was nervous as a child. “I want him...to be able to choose who he’ll desire. I don’t want someone to order it of him…Aimeric too. I sent him to my brother so he could choose…someday.”

Damen was struck with admiration and sympathy and love so intensely that it hurt his chest. “No one would have _hurt_ Isander. You know that, right? I wouldn’t let them.”

Laurent shook his head. “It’s not good enough. I…” his voice dipped below a whisper, “I had no choice.”

Damen embraced him before he could continue in this heart-wrenching train of thought. How? How could everyone---save Auguste---be so _wrong_ about this boy? He would have made a brilliant king in his own right, shown by how deeply he fought for the weak. He knew the feeling of being unprotected and was determined to spare others the same fate. What a prince…

“I understand.” Damen responded, releasing him. “And, as always, I will support you.”

Laurent was pink all over now, but he tried to salvage his pride with his words. “If I need help scaling a building or reaching the highest bough of a tree, I will be sure to let you know.”

“Someday, you cheeky brat, you will fall for someone,” Damen replied, “and all your quick remarks will not save you.”

Laurent looked up at him and his cheeks flushed, but he rolled his eyes.

Laurent continued to read after their conversation and pushed himself closer to Damen so that he could read over the boy’s head. Timon also liked to sit in this position: his back pressed up against the crease where Damen’s left arm met his torso. The only difference was that Laurent’s skin was cool as river stones, while Damen’s pulsed with sun-drenched heat.

When Laurent’s eyes grew heavy, Damen pulled away to douse all but one of the oil lamps. A storm was rolling in off the sea, so the remaining flame and the gauzy curtains danced wildly with the wind, casting strange shadows on the walls.

“It’s cold,” Laurent murmured from where he was shivering beneath the thin blankets. “I didn’t…think it _could_ get cold here.”

Damen climbed in next to him. “Only a little bit. With the wind, but it’s nowhere close to your northern winters.” Damen’s skin radiated heat, like the sun, so the bed would eventually heat from his own body.

Laurent, however, was quaking as if he was frozen. To be fair, his body was closer to the balcony so he was bearing the full brunt of the wind.

“Will you fucking stop that?” Damen hissed as Laurent pressed his cold, bare feet on his thighs.

Laurent giggled through chattering teeth. “I-It’s y-your fault. The b-b-blankets are t-too thin. And I’m a S-Snow Prince.”

Damen was about to argue that he personally had not crafted the Akielon sheets on his bed, but he decided to spare his breath. He’d have better luck arguing with the ocean wind. Instead he groaned, and easily yanked Laurent over to his warm side of the bed, using his body as a wall. The boy sighed in relief.

“Thank g-god. At least y-you’re useful for s-something.”

“Quiet down.” Damen tried to sound serious but ended up laughing. Laurent curled up next to him the way he had done so many times with Auguste and the both of them were lulled to sleep by the crash of violent waves and the ominous rumbling of thunder.


	11. Year 16 (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter, we'll almost be to 50,000 words, so congrats on reading the novel I've written! Apparently the last chapter checked a lot of your favorite headcanons; I think this chapter will do that even more so haha! I aim to please.
> 
> Anyway, you'll notice that I bumped up the chapter count to 21, but trust me: we'll need it with all the ideas I still have for this. Damen is becoming a bit more self-aware from here on out, so let the angst begin ;)
> 
> As always, much love for all the questions and kudos! You guys are the best!

** Akielos: Year 16 (Part 2) **

Auguste had not exaggerated for the sake of his beloved brother; Laurent had become a monstrous swordfighter in one year.

In the beginning days everyone had wanted to fight him.

He was lovely and slender and his cheeks flushed pink during exercise, so everyone wanted to see him flat on his back beneath them. But Laurent had never been fond of being subjugated by anyone, just like his brother and Damen, and it was to the surprise of the Akielon court that his ass touched the ground less often than they would have liked.

In fact, the list of people who could knock him off his feet could be counted on one hand: his brother, Jord, Nikandros, and Damen. For everyone else, he stubbornly refused to fall.

Kastor had been one of the first to challenge and had actually lost to the young prince, shamefully taking what would have been a fatal stab in his chest because he underestimated Laurent’s skill. He had stalked off in a foul mood following the loss.

The day before their trip to Isthima, Damen was getting cruel delight out of training with Laurent.

“Keep at him Laurent!” Auguste cheered good-naturedly from his perch on an ivy-covered wall nearby. “I believe he’s showing signs of exhaustion!”

“Then…you must be…blind!” Laurent gasped in annoyance. Sweat was dripping off his fine nose and he could no longer even muster the strength to hold his sword aloft. To his defense, he had not yielded even after a solid thirty minutes of sparring.

“Your Majesty is doing well!” Isander added.

He was Laurent’s shadow, as Aimeric had been in Aquitart, and waited patiently on the sidelines of the sparring arena with cold water and towels. If the various ribald comments about his beauty or lovely form from some of the soldiers bothered him, he didn’t show it. He was too enamored of Laurent.

Damen grinned. “You’re good, but not good enough to beat me.”

His annoyance gave him the strength to lift his sword. “I do wish you all would stop complimenting me.”

Damen easily rested his sword on his shoulder in a careless way he knew would frustrated Laurent. He was instantly rewarded by seeing blue fire burn in Laurent’s eyes. The boy rushed in a flurry of skillful attacks; he really was at least half of a prodigy, but Damen was bigger, stronger, and less tired.

He blocked easily.

“Come now, yield Snow Prince.” Damen was enjoying this, especially as he used Laurent’s nickname. Everyone in the court of Ios called him that, what with his gorgeous white skin. “Forgive me if I don’t want to smell of sweat for dinner.”

“Then _you_ yield.” Laurent snapped, smearing the sweat off of his forehead.

Annoyed, Damen waited until the prickly prince charged him again and easily disarmed him, sword clattering to the side. Then, just as easily, he snatched Laurent around his waist and hoisted him into the air. Laurent yelped and Auguste laughed, as Damen dragged him to the bath, tossing him in, clothes and all. It would be the first time in a year and a half since he had last bathed with Laurent. The boy seemed to be actively avoiding Damen and his brother in the bathroom.

Laurent rose out of the water, soaked and pissed, his blond hair covering his face.

There was something very alluring about wet Akielon garments. The short white cloth clung to Laurent’s growing body, revealing pink blushes on his creamy skin. Growing and blushing indeed…

Laurent sank down in the hot water in a futile attempt to hide his arousal. His ears were bright red.

“You need not be ashamed.” Auguste attempted to soothe his brother’s embarrassment.

“It happens to us all,” Damen admitted, unraveling his own garment in one expert pull. He shivered as the warm steam hit his bare skin. “More often in youth than now. Just relax…”

Laurent glanced at them both and mumbled something under his breath.

Damen was still getting used to the fact that Laurent was no longer a child. He had been jolted from that reverie when he woke up every morning to find the beautiful prince curled up tight against his chest, using his dark arm as a pillow, with Damen’s large hand entwined in that gorgeous golden hair…

Damen had experienced the same shame Laurent was currently experiencing, as---for a split second---he had thought the young man next to him was a lover bathed in early morning light.

His broad milky shoulders, the masculine curve of his neck, the soft curls of gold trailing down from his navel…

Damen shook his head to clear those thoughts from his mind before he accidentally became aroused again. Besides, Laurent was like a brother to him.

Auguste was a good diversion as he was visibly excited for Isthima; he was excited to swim and fish and hunt and relax, to be nearly naked all the time and dark and boneless from the island sun. It seemed the further he was from Arles, the more uninhibited he could be. Currently he was craving fresh-caught octopus.

“I wish that we had a summer palace like Isthima in Vere…”

“Truly, it doesn’t compare to the attentions of Councilor Guion’s sons.” Laurent agreed sarcastically, without opening his eyes.

Damen was quaking with laughter as Auguste splashed his brother in annoyance.

“Do you _ever_ let things go?”

“No.”

“At least we will be able to see the children from the beach,” Damen attempted to stop them from bickering. “They’ll be as grown as you now Laurent. Are you taking Isander with you?”

“Does that mean I get two crates of books this year?” Laurent actually opened one eye to see Damen’s reaction.

Damen followed in Auguste’s fashion and splashed Laurent.

“I do need to make my selections.” Auguste said thoughtfully. “I suppose I should go ask the ladies if they would like to accompany me…” Damen could feel Laurent roll his eyes, even though they were closed; no one would refuse Auguste. “If the two of you would excuse me…” Damen nodded at Auguste who withdrew from the water, leaving Laurent and Damen to continue to soak.

“You truly are becoming more proficient with a blade.” Damen complimented, assessing Laurent’s musculature.

His lazy blue eyes opened finally and the expression on his face was that of barely concealed pride. “I practiced every day…I want to be strong like Auguste. Strong like…like…”

“Like me?” Damen offered, smiling widely.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Laurent attempted to deflect his own compliment, but his light blush gave him away. “Someday I will beat you. I’ll become the strongest.”

Damen felt warmth in his chest.

Laurent had given him a compliment, whether or not he realized it. He had just admitted that he found Damen the strongest man he knew. The fact that Laurent, his beloved Laurent, wanted to be like him made Damen smile for the rest of the evening.

 

Auguste was seasick from the choppy seas on the voyage, so he was sadly forced to stay in the Isthiman palace. His face was still grayish-white from where it was propped up amongst all the pillows that could be scrounged from the linen closet and the four women he had brought with him were fussing over him. One pressed a cooled cloth to his forehead and bare chest, while the other three were at his beck and call: bringing him wine and water and ice and fruit. He did not look extremely disappointed at this development.

“You paint a pretty picture of infirmity, brother.” Laurent said dryly, from where he was leaned against the doorframe.

Damen rolled his eyes and pushed past the snotty younger prince so he could sit next to the elder one. “Are you _sure_ you don’t want us to wait to go to the beach until tomorrow? I don’t mind waiting…” He said this but he and Laurent were already wearing their skimpy swimming costumes.

Every servant, soldier, kyroi and nobleman they had passed looked as though they had been struck by lightning. Damen could hardly blame them in the face of Laurent’s perfectly balanced body. It was as if an alabaster statue had come to life.

Auguste gave a wan smile. “Please don’t put yourselves out on my account. It is my own folly for drinking griva on a rocking ship. I’ll be fine with rest and care. Please go, I insist.”

Damen leaned forward and Auguste smiled, anticipating the move. They clasped each other’s necks and pressed their foreheads together in their familiar gesture of friendship.

“I’ll catch you an octopus.” Damen promised and chuckled when Auguste retched a little at the thought of seafood. “Beauties of Akielos,” The slave girls bowed their heads to their crown prince, “Don’t let my cherished friend die. I’ll not have a war started or his memory embarrassed over a spot of seasickness.” Auguste laughed and the women nodded respectfully.

When Damen turned back to Laurent, the young man’s face was carefully controlled to look calm, but Damen saw the subtle clench of his fine jaw.

“Something wrong?” Damen asked him gently as they walked down to the stables. “You know I’m only joking. Auguste won’t die from this.”

Laurent’s smile had a faint trace of acid. “I am not concerned about my brother…”

Damen was going to pry a little more, but they encountered Isander around the next corner and he bowed low in the Veretian fashion; it looked as though Laurent was retraining him to his tastes. His eyes flicked up at Laurent’s bidding.

“Isander,” Damen hailed him with kindness, lifting his chin entirely.

Laurent twitched at the touch and Damen shot him a look; it was not as if he intended to bed the boy. He was still too young and he belonged to Laurent anyways.

“Exalted One,” Isander responded in his wonderfully husky voice. “I am beneath your attention.” He glanced at Laurent as if waiting for an expected instruction.

Damen also looked to Laurent. “Will Isander be joining us this afternoon?”

Isander seemed startled by the question and looked to Laurent with something like hope in his eyes; Damen was supremely confused by their reactions as Laurent bit his lip.

“No. No…Isander if you will stay here and…and…”

Isander smiled beatifically, causing Damen to throb a little. “Of course, Your Grace. Your word is my command. I wish you a pleasant afternoon. Exalted One.” And then Isander took his leave by Laurent’s command, his step oddly excited. Damen watched him go, still utterly confused.

Laurent also watched his companion leave, specifically focusing on the exposed curve of Isander’s lower back. “Do you…? Is Isander…to your liking?”

“You are certainly strange today…” Damen remarked, flicking Laurent’s forehead. “Are you sick too? Isander is lovely and obedient; he is a testament to your household. If you were wondering if I desire him…I would not bed a youth or a member of your household. Besides,” Damen continued to walk toward the stables, “he is not my type.”

By the time the two of them reached the familiar rocky beach on horseback, there was a faint stripe of dark gray on the horizon, promising a storm by the evening.

The island children mobbed them as soon as they had dismounted, and this time the teenagers who came in from the sea smiled wide and white in recognition. Although they had been children at the time and two years had passed, they remembered the child who couldn’t swim. They remembered the ‘brother’ with his shark belly skin and eyes like the sea and the sky. Laurent was less timid this time, but even he shied away as his old acquaintances began to run their hands over his skin, approving at the new muscles beneath.

Gently, Damen held Laurent up against his side and Laurent physically relaxed against him, his ears a bit pink at the attention.

“Brother, Brother! There’s a storm coming today! Many good fish will be here.”

Damen grinned down at their excited, sunny faces. “I know! This one’s brother wants octopus.”

In the two years earlier, when Laurent and Auguste had first come to Isthima, Laurent had never dived for sea creatures, instead staying in the safety of the shallows and the tide pools. But now that he was a self-assured youth of sixteen, he followed Damen and the island teenagers out into the deeper reefs. The waves were higher than usual because of the approaching tempest but underwater was serene and still.

It was there that Damen and the island children discovered that Laurent was unparalleled.

If Auguste had been beauty and grace in the seas, then Laurent was tenfold that. Everyone was transfixed as he dove, arching his muscular back and cutting through the sea with kicks from those long legs. His hair streamed out behind him, flashing gold like sunken treasure.

“Brother,” One of the boys gasped hoarsely as they came up for air, “he is…well-formed.”

His swimming was rusty though. When coming up for air once, a wave crashed over Laurent’s head, pushing him back beneath the surface. Damen grasped him by the waist and hoisted him above the water so that he could cough up salt water. Relieved that he was all right and shocked at how undignified Laurent looked hacking up water, Damen couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t--- _cough_ \---laugh!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Damen responded, clearing the blond hair from his eyes and patting his browning back, “Are you ok? I can take you back to shore if you wish.” He shuddered as something slimy touched his back; Laurent’s arms were wrapped around his neck and he held a half-open clam in his left hand.

“ _Cough_ \---Just give me--- _cough_ \---a moment.”

Damen let Laurent cling to him, carefully treading water. “I feel like the heroes in Akielon myths. Like I’ve just rescued a maiden from a sea-beast.”

Laurent gave him an acidic look, but did not unwrap his arms from Damen. “Akielon maidens must have impressive cocks if you can mistake me for one of them.”

Damen made his expression very serious. “I’ll dunk you back under the water.”

Laurent smiled in that wicked way only he could; he unwound his arms and slithered back under the surface, refusing any more help from Damen. With a shrug, Damen followed him back into the blue silence.

It was Damen who snatched the dull brown octopus from it’s rocky anchor, triumphantly holding its’ wriggling body above his head as he surfaced for air.

“I win,” He told Laurent a few moments later after the young prince had joined him.

“I wasn’t aware it was a competition. Or I would have won.”

Damen grinned at his brazen confidence and stuffed the octopus down in the net alongside the various urchins, oysters, abalone and crabs he and Laurent had fished up. “It’s wonderful…I’m sure Auguste will be pleased…” He had probably not tasted his favorite delicacy since his last time in Akielos.

Laurent’s expression became dark. But then he motioned toward the sky. “It looks like a storm.”

The dark clouds from earlier in the afternoon were much closer now and the water above reef was rocking more violently. If the two of them wanted to get home and be even a little dry, they would have to leave immediately. But after Damen and Laurent had paddled to shore, Damen realized he had made the exact same mistake from two years ago and had not brought his own net.

The hard-bargaining teenagers smiled at about the same time as Damen groaned.

“Brother.” They looked unsubtly at the two horses moored to the trees.

He desperately needed the net to transport their food, but without one of their horses, he and Laurent would be forced to share. And he was on a time limit; the storm was rolling in with a vengeance.

Laurent seemed unconcerned as he wrung out the salt water from his blond hair, leaving Damen to deal with this alone.

“God damn it…” He chose Laurent’s smaller horse to lend to the island children, and the two would have to share Damen’s. He approached Laurent who was sliding the water off his browning legs. “Do you prefer the front or the back?”

Laurent looked as though any number of crude remarks jumped to his mind. “Excuse me?”

Damen motioned to the gleeful island children who were stroking the muzzle of Laurent’s fine horse. “Those little sharks have borrowed your horse in exchange for us using their net,” Laurent raised his eyebrow at the lopsided deal, “and I wondered if you would like to sit in the front of me, or ride pillion. Or you could walk if neither of those suit you.”

“ _You_ should walk to compensate for your shitty bartering skills.”

“Can we argue about this later?” Damen asked, motioning to the storm clouds.

Laurent’s cheeks took on a high color, possibly because of Damen’s tone. “Fine, I understand. I’ll sit…in front. Maybe your huge body can block me from the rain.” Damen ruffled Laurent’s damp hair.

The wind picked up as Laurent settled between Damen’s legs, trying his best not to rest against Damen’s chest. He frowned; this was going to be a long ride unless Laurent relaxed.

“Laurent,” Damen blew in Laurent’s pink ear, causing the brat to jump in surprise, “I’m not going to…you’re going to have to rest against me. If the horse is startled by wind or thunder, I don’t want you falling off. Trust me.”

“I trust you…” Laurent mumbled unwillingly. “You should train your horses better.”

Ignoring the insult, Damen pushed on the center of Laurent’s burnt chest, so his body was pressed up against Damen’s front. When he looked down, Damen could see the top of that blond head and he grinned; it was nice to be able to physically protect the prince in his arms. Laurent however was stiff with discomfort, his ears burning crimson.

Under the leaves of the jungle, the approaching storm took on a magical quality. The trees rattled their leaves, but aside from that and the tidal crash, it was completely silent.

The steady pace of their horse was enough to soothe Laurent, and before long he was in a dreamless, exhausted sleep, his blond head bouncing softly on Damen’s chest. To keep him from falling, Damen roped one arm around Laurent’s slim waist to keep him steady. Unlike in the past, his touch did not wake Laurent; quite the opposite, Laurent snuggled even closer to the familiar warmth of Damen’s dark skin, like he did every night while they slept.

He really was so precious…

The rain fell in fat drops as Damen rode steadily into the courtyard of his summer palace, but Damen did fulfill Laurent’s prediction.

When he dismounted, he clutched the net in between his teeth so that his arms were free to scoop Laurent up. His entire torso was bent over the sleeping teenager so that he was effectively blocking Laurent from the rain. The stableboy who came to take his horse looked positively scandalized; Auguste would be pleased.

Annoyingly, Kastor was waiting for them as well in the shadow of the doorway.

“Brother, Damianos, your hands are full. Let me---“ Damen was unable to protest through the net in his teeth as Kastor reached for Laurent, clutching too high on the leg, too far around the chest.

The effect was almost instantaneous.

The moment Kastor’s hands hit Laurent’s bare skin, Laurent woke as if he had forced himself to, his eyes wide as he clung to Damen. Kastor released him immediately, startled by the reaction.

Laurent looked around wildly, his blue eyes still clouded by sleep, until he saw that Damen was still holding him. And just like two years before, he sighed in contentment, immediately relaxing. Damen grinned through the ropes as Laurent nestled back against his chest to Kastor’s confusion.

“Mmphhrr…mmph mph.”

Kastor removed the bag of seafood from Damen’s mouth to see what he was saying.

Damen was triumphant. “My hands _are_ full Kastor. Thank you. If you would take those to the kitchen for Prince Auguste, I’ll take Prince Laurent to his chambers.”

Without allowing Kastor to say anything in response, Damen walked away before he could start laughing at his older brother’s expression. He did not truly think Kastor would assault Laurent, but rather wanted to woo him by appearing gallant and protective by carrying him. But those tactics only worked on slaves and star-struck subjects. It would take more than that to impress Laurent.

And Kastor knew nothing about Laurent.

When Damen arrived back in his own rooms, the storm was in full break, with jagged scars of lightning piercing the gray-dark sky. There was the pleasant sound of pouring rain from the balcony. In other words, perfect conditions for a deep sleep.

After wrapping Laurent in the covers of his bed, Damen walked to his balcony.

There was still some time before dinner would be served and he enjoyed watching summer storms.

From where he reclined on his lounging couch, Damen’ bare feet were misted with warm rainwater. He looked out over the treetops and relished in the feeling of being alone…but it was not entirely relaxing. The last time he was on this balcony was when he finally accepted that Auguste did not love him.

It didn’t hurt him anymore…

In fact, it was less painful to have to worry about it, less painful to know he had one of the greatest friends in four kingdoms.

He looked up at the sound of padding, bare feet and looked up to see Laurent, still half asleep. Damen couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. Normally he was so sleek and polished, it was unusual to see his corn-silk hair stuck up like straw and only one blue eye half opened.

“Darling,” Damen started when he had composed himself and Laurent blushed pink, “You are a vision.”

“Your very voice is offensive to me.” Laurent responded.

However, he continued to walk over to where Damen was lounging and elbowed Damen back. To his surprise, Laurent made himself comfortable, lying next to Damen as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Damen froze for a split second, deciding what to do, before he also relaxed, his hand unconsciously moving to smooth that wild hair.

Laurent, still half asleep, gave a satisfied coo deep in his chest. “Mmmm…it’s warm…”

Damen smiled, curling his arm around Laurent’s cool shoulders. In the meantime, he continued to marvel at Laurent’s hair; even Auguste’s could not match it. It was silken soft and ran like liquid gold through his fingers. Laurent sighed along with his petting, the sweet kid.

“Bed too comfortable?” Damen asked jokingly, stroking the baby hairs at his neck.

“Too cold.” Laurent mumbled. “Why are you out here?”

Damen stopped playing with Laurent’s hair to admire the still-raging storm. “Enjoying the weather. Reminiscing…”

Damen caught sight of that clever blue eye again. “About my brother?”

Damen was not baited. “Don’t you start. You’re supposed to be nicer when you’re tired.”

Laurent smiled in a way that might have been sweet on another boy. “You don’t need to be so shy. And I love my brother…but even he can be foolish at times…” His defense of Damen over his brother gave Damen a rush of fondness. He patted Laurent’s back.

“And here I thought you would grow into a poisoned blade of a man.”

Laurent shifted so that Damen could not see his face. “Ah…Am I a man then? Not a ‘Little Scholar’? Not a cheeky brat?”

That statement gave Damen pause.

Laurent did not choose to elaborate on his comments and breathed rhythmically, apparently claimed by sleep again. But looking at his long form, it was true: he _was_ no longer a child. He was not the bratty kid who could not protect himself and clung to his older brother and a foreign prince. This threw Damen off; so much of his relationship with the younger prince of Vere was dependent on Damen protecting him. Without that…what was there?

Damen looked down at that nearly flawless profile.

At first he thought there was trust but…that was only as a result of him being weak and Damen being strong. Laurent did not trust him with his innermost thoughts the way he shared with Auguste. Soon Laurent would not need him to train him in swordplay either. He would stand on his own as a man would.

Then there was what he enjoyed most: their scathing back-and-forth, the witty banter in the library. That, for Damen, was more enjoyable than any swordplay with Laurent. It gave him insight into that brilliant mind and it was one of the only times they stood on equal sparring ground. But…

Laurent was a man. He would take a lover someday and all that teasing, all that quick wit would be used to infuriate and amuse them.

With rumbling thunder, Damen felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realized he had no real claim to this dear person other than the fact that he was a friend with Laurent’s older brother. The thought was piercing and cold in the warm, tropical air.

He could lose this beloved person.

Damen looked down gently and it was no longer the child that first insulted him on the steps of Arles.

A young man, one of the finest in four kingdoms, was pressed up against him. Lean and creamy gold, any man or woman in Akielos and Vere would long to gaze at him, long to touch him… As he was doing right now.

A thought came, unbidden, into his mind.

_Hearsay had told everyone from the palace of Vere to the smallest towns in Akielos that Crown Prince Damianos had a type. He liked silky golden hair paired with pale skin and wide eyes…_

Recoiling from his own thoughts and the familiar heat that began to bubble in the pit of his stomach, Damen almost pushed Laurent away. But then the feeling, the thought was gone as soon as it had come.

“Damianos?” Laurent must have felt his discomfort and awoke, concerned.

Damen smiled down at him. He really was sweet, even when he wasn’t sleepy and non-venomous. “It’s nothing. Sleep, Snow Prince. I’ll wake you when dinner comes.” Laurent scanned his face looking for the lie, but finally nodded in concession, laying his head back on Damen’s arm.

Damen placed a brotherly kiss on that blond head.

His emotions were roiling inside of him. He was filled with adoration for the younger Prince of Vere, an intense protectiveness, and fear. Abject fear that he was losing small, dear, venomous Laurent to his inevitable growth into manhood…

 


	12. Year 16 (Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was sweet; now back to your regular angst.
> 
> Also shout-out to the commenters last chapter who let me know about the existence of 'The Summer Palace'! You're the best! I read it immediately afterwards and god...I wish it had been longer. And sadly my guess about the summer palace being on Isthima was wrong.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy Laurent being a moody teenager and Damen struggling to keep up!

 

** Akielos: Year 16 (Part 3) **

Damen could not shake his lingering feeling of irritation.

Roused at the crack of dawn to a knocking at his door, Damen had cursed softly and then immediately glanced down at his bedmates to make sure he hadn’t awakened them. Timon, sweetly babyish in sleep, had curled into a ball next to his uncle and one of his new favorites at court. He had warmed considerably to Auguste and Laurent now that they were tanned dark from the Isthiman sun and though gentle Auguste was his favorite of the two, he would come to Laurent when Auguste was with his lovers. Laurent’s white-blond eyelashes fluttered when Damen moved, but he did not wake up.

His bed was crowded recently.

Damen resisted the urge to fling the door open in dramatics; he did not want to wake the sleeping kids, but at the same time he was awake now and wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep again, a leftover habit from his days training as a soldier.

Instead he made his expression that of barely-concealed rage as he yanked open his door. The young soldier waiting outside nearly seemed to piss himself in shock and fear at the sight of his infuriated Crown Prince. He immediately bowed low.

Damen took a deep breath so he could keep some semblance of a civil tone. “Soldier, pride of Akielos, to what…do I owe this early visit?”

The boy must have felt Damen’s hostility, for he refused to raise his head. “E-Exalted One! I am…I _beg_ your pardon! I had no idea you were at rest…P-Please forgive me f-for this grievous insult!”

Damen couldn’t find it in him to stay angry. “Forgiven. State your business.”

The boy shuffled. He looked to be about seventeen or eighteen and looked strong and intelligent like most of the young soldiers in Ios. Shyly, it appeared as though he had hidden something behind his back that he seemed loath to part with. “I-I was…erm, looking for…h-his majesty…the Prince of Vere.” His voice came out in a whisper at the end.

Ah. Damen sighed in realization. This boy was one of Laurent’s suitors.

They had been popping out of the woodwork ever since their return from Isthima; Laurent, with his smooth skin now golden-brown and hair bleached white gold, had somehow become even more attractive to the Akielons. Not a single day had gone by without Laurent receiving some token of favor from a young man.

Damen put out his hand expectantly, but the boy stared behind him, no doubt seeing the tumble of long toasted limbs weaving in and out of Damen’s sheets.

“Exalted One…” Flushing red, he bowed again hastily and turned on his heel to leave without giving Damen whatever was intended for Laurent.

So he had woken Damen for nothing.

When Damen got back into his own bed, intent on angrily watching the room turn brighter, he caught of flash of blue from that prettiest face in court. And his exhaustion vanished like vapor in the face of those intelligent eyes.

“To whom do we owe our early morning?” Laurent asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

Damen shifted Timon so that he could gently flick Laurent on the forehead. “It is entirely your fault. One of your army of suitors,” Laurent gave a deep, long-suffering sigh, pressing his face into a pillow, “decided that dawn would be the most romantic time to give you a sign of his affection.”

“It never ends.”

Luckily for Laurent, the women of Akielos avoided him, likely to avoid unfavorable comparisons to his looks.

“I think your army of admirers outnumbers my own Akielon army.” Damen teased.

He was rewarded by Laurent’s eyes narrowing into sea-colored slits. “I have no use for their rampant lust or ill-conceived gifts.”

That bit was true, Damen thought as he smoothed Laurent and Timon’s hair in turns. Just like Kastor, most of the youths in Ios had a poor grasp on Laurent’s interests, though it was probably refreshingly innocent in comparison to the lecherous courtship in Vere. Here in Ios, men gave flowers in the shadows of a garden wall, a whispered compliment in an empty hallway, a duel fought in a lover’s honor…

So hot were the Akielon boys that some had overstepped their reach. Laurent had blackened one young mans’ eye for attempting to steal a kiss in the library while he had reduced another to a fearful, weeping mess for trying to court him through Isander.

Those who could write, mostly the sons of kyroi and physicians, wrote him simple, sweet love letters praising his beauty and fine form. Those artistically inclined sketched his likeness in charcoal or composed songs about him, which he was forced to endure without even a hint of laughter under Auguste’s watch.

Damen teased him mercilessly.

They didn’t realize that he liked a challenge, a healthy debate, or learning something new. He cared little for descriptions of his own beauty but wanted something more…substantial.

Laurent propped himself up on his elbows, his shirt slipping low on his firm shoulders. The lovely picture of his form was at odds with the sour expression on his face. “Very well. Show me what I must pretend to be thankful for…”

Damen showcased empty hands. “He left without actually giving it to me.”

Laurent’s smile was one of abject relief, immediately restoring him to the golden prince everyone was besotted with. “Thank god…why did he leave? Did you scare him off with your excellent mood?” Damen grinned and it spurred Laurent on. “Or maybe he thought you were with a lover?”

Damen choked on his breath for a moment.

It was another one of those moments he had been having recently; one of those moments when he was becoming acutely aware that young Laurent was not so young. He was almost the age Damen had been on his first journey to Arles. He was no longer a child fearful of the dark, desperate for the protection of his brother. He was a young man…sharing Damen’s bed.

Surely it would cast Laurent in a dubious light.

It irritated Damen that now his soldiers would think he and Laurent were… _lovers_.

The feeling persisted with such strength that Damen could not ignore it any longer. To shed his feeling of guilt, to leave Laurent spotless in the eyes of his own court, Damen decided to address the issue not long after.

When he returned late that night from drinking with his father, brother, Auguste, and the kyroi, his stomach sank to see Laurent already propped up in his bed, reading as easily as if he were in his own rooms. Damen dreaded this, but at least he still had the liquid courage leftover from the alcohol.

“If you aim to vomit on the bedcovers,” Laurent remarked without looking up, “I suggest aiming to the left. Or you’ll wake without a tongue.”

“Laurent…” Damen’s tongue was thick and unwieldy. “Need to talk…”

“Are you even capable of talking?”

This was not going to make things easier…

“Laurent, you need to…” Damen sat heavily on the bed and pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to keep his world from spinning. “God…You can’t…be here. I’m sorry…”

Laurent looked up from his book at this pronouncement and, through Damen’s _griva_ -addled brain, his expression looked dark with annoyance. “Is it another one of your noisy lovers? You…you can bugger him to your heart’s desire in the bathroom. I care not.”

Damen shook his head. “No! No…It’s not that…Laurent…”Laurent’s brow was furrowed. He disliked dealing with drunkards and fools, Damen knew and if he did not tread carefully he was about to be in for the tongue lashing of his life. “Y-You have to…sleep in y-your own…chambers now.”

Laurent closed his book. “I…I don’t understand?”

Damen took one of Laurent’s hands. “This morning my---no---your admirer saw you here…with me.”

“Oh,” Laurent seemed to relax, his shoulders slumping back into the pillows. “And here I thought it was an emergency. Truly it is a great loss for me to have a gnat brushed away.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“Laurent.” Damen steadied his voice. “You…cannot sleep here…anymore. In…In Vere and Ios…I never slept so many nights with Auguste. It was fine…when you were a child…but now. Now you are near an adult…it is…people will…”

Laurent cut to the quick of the issue. “They will think I am your lover.”

Damen smiled gracefully, if not a little drunkenly, at his keen understanding. “Yes. You are still…young at sixteen, but even in Ios…people talk. I’ll not have anyone slander you.”

Damen thought this was diplomatic, but evidently Laurent thought otherwise.

“I don’t care.” He withdrew his hand in a gesture of annoyance. “Let them talk about me and pay it no mind. I have more important worries than the gossip of scorned lovers.”

“I care,” Damen insisted sitting closer, his indignation rising; why didn’t Laurent value himself more? “One day you’ll…you’ll find someone---“

Laurent interrupted him. “Am I to really engage with you while you are inebriated? I think you’ll find that you’re quite outmatched.” He was beginning to sound strange but Damen could not process his tone at the moment.

“I am trying to help you Laurent!” Damen insisted. “I don’t want lies about…you. I don’t want e-everyone in Ios to think…I-I have _seduced_ you…or you have done so to me…”

His response was venomous. “In my own court they call me a liar and a slut. Are you going to attempt to dissuade them of this as well? Or are you only concerned now that your own name is mixed in with the rumors?”

“L-Laurent, please! I have not…the means to defend…a-against this!” Damen stuttered, shakily rising to his feet. “I-I don’t want you…s-slandered! As if…”

“As if what?” Laurent did not get angry like most. He also rose with an icy fluidity, but he did not yell. His voice remained soft and silken in cruel fury. He did not yell, but that might have actually been preferable. “As if I’m _dirty_? A tarnished prince? A statue carved of filthy marble?”

Damen was angry in his stead. He longed to run over and shake this foolhardy teenager. “You’re… _not_ dirty!”

Laurent whirled on him, his face cracking like fine porcelain, allowing sorrow and rage and pain creep into his lovely features. He looked at Damen as though he was looking at him for the first time. “Then why…why do you always look at me with such pity?”

Damen recoiled as though Laurent had physically injured him.

It had all gone so wrong…

“I don’t _want_ your pity.” Laurent hissed when Damen could make no reply. “I don’t need it. I thought…” He smiled down at the forgotten book and it was a soft and sad smile, “But that is my weakness. I always think too much.”

They stood there for a moment in utter silence, before Damen could even begin to think. It felt like his nerves and mind were raw, like his heart was pumping shards of glass. This is what it felt like to be reduced to a puddle in the face of Laurent’s scathing verbal assault.

“Laurent---.”

“I’ll go.” Laurent answered hastily, scooping up his book and darting away with speed reserved for the sober and upset. The door he left hastily ajar, buffered by the ocean wind, and not even the sound of his footsteps echoed in the hallways as he escaped. Laurent never let anyone see him cry.

It had seemed like an alcohol-induced dream to Damen.

The room was cold and silent as if Laurent had merely been a wind sylph, blown through on the late summer breeze. But the pain lingered. And as Damen collapsed onto his bed, feeling the familiar warmth where the Snow Prince had been resting in wait for him, he knew he had made a mistake.

He knew he had hurt his little friend very badly indeed…

 

Laurent did not speak to Damen again for the rest of his time in Ios.

He actively avoided Damen, disappearing around corners in an errant flash of gold and standing stoically in a group when they could not avoid meeting. Isander was his buffer, polite and lovely so that it was hard for Damen to be insistent on his pursuit.

Even now Damen felt his annoyance waning into an ember in the face of those large, doe-like eyes.

Isander lowered his head and crossed his hands so that Damen could see his slender wrists and glossy hair, allowing Laurent precious moments to escape. “Exalted One…my master, his Majesty the Prince of Vere, requires a recess. If you have any messages you would like to give him, it would be my _honor_ to relay them to him.”

Damen wanted to throw up his hands in exasperation, but instead he patted those silken black curls.

“I understand Isander…”

Auguste was equally unhelpful. He noticed that Laurent refused to eat breakfast in his rooms when Damen was attending and never bathed or sparred with them anymore. He was all-or-nothing; if Damen refused his company in one area then Laurent would not spend time with him for anything else.

“You are both alike,” Auguste said in fake solemnity after Damen had aired his grievances over their luncheon, “Stubborn as twin mules.”

Damen frowned over his olives. “How can I talk to him? How can I…explain?”

Auguste chewed thoughtfully. “Normally I would say to let him be angry until he’s ready to listen; I suppose he’s like me in that he holds a grudge…But, we _are_ leaving after next week, after the okton…This is a fine problem.”

Damen groaned.

The southern sun addled Auguste’s brains until he was tranquil beyond all belief. All his stress from Vere disappeared and he seemed incapable of giving good advice.

Auguste smiled at Damen’s obvious worry. “I can understand his anger and your concern. I appreciate that you’re trying to save him from more rumors; they hurt him more than he lets on…I only know how to handle him as my brother. It must be different for you. There must be some way only you can resolve this.”

Damen looked at Auguste wanting to scream at the riddle. But he could not be angry with his friend. Auguste was simpler than Laurent: honest, gentle, and physically strong, much like Damen himself. Laurent was trickier but Damen liked him no less…

“If you think of anything, be sure to let me know.” Damen sighed. “I miss that little brat.”

“Not so little anymore.” Auguste corrected with a grin. “You know better now that his growth has caused all of this. But…it is rare. I’m not used to people missing my brother. Usually they are glad to see him go.” He raised one eyebrow as though he did not believe Damen.

“I _do_ miss him.” Damen insisted, almost laughing; Auguste’s good humor was infectious. “His determination to beat me in swordplay is admirable.”

“So you enjoy knocking my brother in the dirt. A desire shared by many.”

“Yes!” Damen laughed. “No one else comes at me with such desire to win, aside from you. And…I _like_ his wit. Everyone seems to dislike it but…I miss arguing with him. His wit is a better weapon than his sword and I…I’m sorry I’m going on and on. But I am so used to talking with him, it has thrown me off.”

Auguste positively beamed. “You need not apologize. I am a fool for my brother and it is rare for someone to share my sentiments. He is an idiot though if he does not forgive you; he would lose a valuable ally.”

“An ally in humor at the very least.” Damen pointed out; Auguste forced Laurent to abide tokens from his suitors with grace and thankfulness, but Damen giggled with him about some of the more embarrassing ones afterwards. “When he critiques love letters, I---.”

Auguste yelped in shock and grabbed his bowl of dates before they could be upended as Damen jumped to his feet, slapping his palms on the table.

His eyes were bright with excitement and his grin was broad. “Auguste! I know! I know what I have to do!” Auguste gazed at him in amazement, robotically popping dates into his slack mouth. “I have to…I have to go!”

And Damen ran out of Auguste’s room, leaving his friend to his fruit.

He had very little time left---a little less than a week considering the okton and training---to prepare. And if his execution were anything less than perfect, his plan would backfire horribly. If one version was subpar then there would have to be a second, a third, a fourth version. As many as needed to keep up with Laurent’s whip-quick critique.

At every available moment, Damen hustled back to his room and continued with the intensity of a madman. He was spurred on by the stark emptiness of his rooms, by the resounding silence.

Laurent did not know of his intentions, so he ignored Damen even during the opening ceremony of the okton.

This year Laurent was not seated by Theomedes and Kastor in the royal dais, but was amongst the competitors, insisting on taking part in the archery competition. Even though he was tanned from the southern sun, he was still several shades paler than everyone else and his head was held high in careless pride. Most people in the crowd could not keep their eyes off of him.

Archery was first, and though Damen could shoot as accurately as any man, he did want to give others a sporting chance at winning some of the other events.

So he and Auguste relaxed in the royal area and watched the youths compete.

The act was performed shirtless to showcase the fine form of the arms, shoulders and back. All in a line the young men and women stood and they fired in order, with each round ending in eliminations of inferior shots. Laurent was at the prime end spot as a concession to his royal rank and by god did he take advantage of that fact.

He moved with almost exaggerated slowness, as if he was _trying_ to frustrate his audience and competitors. He drew back in one simple motion and, after aiming, released his hold, hitting dead center every time. There were perks to being a perfectionist.

“My brother is infuriating.” Auguste remarked cheerfully to King Theomedes.

He was in the top ten and then the top five, never faltering or shooting anything less than dead center. He was a member of the final three and then the top two, looking as apathetic as if someone had just read him another poor love letter.

His opponent looked at him in shock and amazement, as if he had never seen such laissez-faire attitude in the games.

Damen loved that pluck.

Though his beauty was originally what garnered him so much attention, the crowd went positively wild as he won with a bored expression and a spectacular shot. Like nesting dolls, each arrow was split down the center by the following shot, leaving thin curls of wood near the bulls-eye. Even Damen had risen to his feet in applause, a grin slicing unbidden across his face. Auguste looked as proud as though he himself had won the archery competition.

In an effort to look self-effacing, Laurent lowered his eyelashes in a way that would have been flirtatious on any other human being; he lightly kissed his opponent on both cheeks in the Veretian custom before going to stand before King Theomedes and receive his reward.

Even Damen’s father was in awe of the young Prince of Vere, unable to muster anything wise to say.

Instead, he placed a hand for his blessing on Laurent’s golden head before presenting him a ceremonial arrow that matched. “Prince Laurent…you are…you have grown into a fine young man.”

Laurent inclined his head in easy gratitude for the compliment; Damen and Auguste noticed his ears blushing in a sign that he truly appreciated the praise, as it was rarely given to him. “You are too kind, Your Highness…”

It was only soured for Damen when Laurent did not even acknowledge him.

At least it provided him with the energy to carry on with his own plan to communicate with Laurent. The night before the okton, Damen finished, gazing down at the three carefully written pages in front of him. He had realized during that breakfast with Auguste, more than anything else the best way to get to Laurent was through good writing.

And unlike his suitors who made the understandable, but fatal mistake of pouring out their heart and soul onto one draft without cohesion or substance, Damen had written his twelve times to make sure it stood up to his Little Scholar’s high standards. Aside from Auguste, he knew Laurent best…

He felt that twinge of possessiveness; this _had_ to work.

He itched to run to Laurent’s chambers now and face down the inevitable freezing glare, but he had a better strategy. One that did not end with his letter in a coal brazier…

So it was on the morning of the okton, after he had embraced his competitors and made his promises to Auguste that Damen approached Laurent in front of his entire court. Although he had lightly expressed interest in competing over dinner, Theomedes and Auguste had immediately shot him down. Auguste would not be able to concentrate on his own safety for fear for his brother, while Theomedes argued King Aleron would never forgive Akielos if both of his sons competed in such a dangerous sport. Laurent actually seemed at ease.

Damen had actually wondered if Laurent enjoyed sports at all, save for demeaning others and the ability to protect himself.

Regardless, it meant Laurent sat on the royal dais in front of king and country and risked losing face by refusing a request from a man, a prince, putting his life on the line. Before his father could speak to the competitors, Damen raised his hand in a beg for silence and it was immediately granted. Damen grinned at his own wiles.

“Father, before I defeat Crown Prince Auguste,” Damen began and laughed as he heard an indignant shout from Auguste, “I have something that I must do.”

Laurent must have known because he was twisting his hands in his lap as Damen approached the royal group. The crowd was hushed in anticipation.

Damen took the thick envelope from where it was fit snugly between his shoulder and his tunic and withdrew it in a flourish to meet Laurent’s narrowed blue gaze. Damen longed to reach over and ruffle his hair. “Prince Laurent,” then a little softer so not many others could hear, “Snow Prince, should I die or win, will you do me the honor of reading what I have written to you?”

A low murmur rushed through the crowd at this sign of intimacy; no doubt everyone thought it was a testament of love.

Glancing about, Damen did see some excited whispering along with sour expressions, the bitterest look belonging to none other than his brother Kastor. Auguste’s eyes were wide with shock but his shoulders were shaking in repressed laughter while Laurent’s cheeks were rosy with the unwanted attention.

With speed unlike any he had shown on the archery pitch, Laurent snatched the envelope from Damen’s hands. He regarded it as if it were poisoned, before carelessly slipping it into his own tunic.

“Ride as if to die.” Was his only response and Damen smiled.

There were hoots and jeers as Damen walked straight-backed and thrilled back to his fellow competitors; he cared not. They knew nothing and he would set them all straight in short order.

Auguste, though smiling, punched him hard in the left shoulder as they walked to their horses. “Your intent is to embarrass my baby brother in front of your whole court? You’ll set tongues to wagging, Damianos.”

Damen rolled his shoulder as he mounted his horse. “Worry about your own embarrassment Auguste. I’ll not lose two times in a row.”

Auguste’s blue eyes caught fire and when Damen looked back to the dais, Laurent’s were burning too.

These brothers would burn him up, he thought with a smile.

 

Damen ran down to the courtyard with hell at his heels.

It was not long past dawn, the sky still pink with the new sun, and only a few people from the night before were roused. Damen was in a melancholy mood; he had spent the last night, as he always had, talking with Auguste. But Laurent had been noticeably absent, staunchly refusing to share the room with Damen. It was the first time he had ever refused and Damen acutely felt the loss.

Maybe it was because Auguste spent so much time making love while he was in Ios or if it was due to Laurent’s growth, but Damen felt as though he had become much closer to Laurent this year.

Despite everyone’s late night of drinking and making merry, the Veretians wanted to have an early start so that they could ride to Aquitart by midnight and then to Arles by the next evening. Auguste’s men were probably miserable.

There was only a small party in the courtyard at this time of day.

Of course King Theomedes was there and Kastor, surprisingly, had decided to rouse himself early just to get one last chance to ogle Laurent. Isander was holding Timon, both of them sleepy sweet, and Pallas was looking highly upset at being parted from Lazar again; he would not get the opportunity to stay this year as he had not been injured in the okton. Nikandros and Auguste’s other men looked miserable from what was sure to be a hangover.

They were waiting for him.

Auguste grinned mournfully as Damen skidded up to him, his hands immediately clasping the back of Auguste’s neck so that their foreheads could touch. “Damianos…It is too soon to leave…as always…”

“You want to stay so I can beat you again?” He joked in response, still high off his victories.

Auguste, ever cheerful, narrowed his eyes. “We are tied for the okton at least. I doubt anyone could beat you at swordplay, but the next time we are in Ios I will settle this score.”

Damen closed his eyes. “I will miss you, my friend. Be safe on your journey home.”

When he had relinquished Auguste, Damen turned to Laurent who was pointedly ignoring him by bidding a long farewell to Isander and Timon. Isander glanced up at Damen’s approach and averted his eyes to Laurent, smiling softly.

“Exalted One…”

Laurent’s ears went pink, but he forced himself to look up at Damen. His blue eyes were still hostile. Damen beamed; he couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time he met Laurent, the distrustful, prickly child… So precious that only he and Auguste knew.

“Do I get an embrace from you too?” He asked and watched as those ears burned dark. When Laurent did not respond, Damen leaned closer. “Will you miss me?”

“No.” His voice was deceptively flat.

“Will you write me?”

“…No…” Laurent clutched the front of his Veretian riding vest and Damen knew---he just _knew_ somehow---that his letter was there. That it had been read and not burned away or shredded. Damen’s eloquence had won him over.

Damen gently, very gently put both of his hands at the base of Laurent’s neck, cupping his skull. Laurent jumped as Damen leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. “Are you lying?”

“ _No_.”

Damen laughed at this stubbornness. In a way…he was going to miss Laurent’s presence the most. No one else was such a match, such a puzzle… He released Laurent’s head so that he could plant a kiss on that beloved brow. Laurent the Liar would forgive him.

“Good bye Little Scholar, Snow Prince. I will miss you, I will write you and I am not lying.” Laurent looked up at him and the hostility was gone from his face; instead he looked…hopeful? Damen smoothed his glossy hair. “Until we meet again…”

Laurent held the spot over his breast as he and his brother rode out of the courtyard.

Laurent would forgive him.


	13. Year 17 (Part 0)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...lots of feelings last chapter and there will probably be a great many in this chapter too. This chapter is a little...different. Mostly it's to hurry us along to Laurent's 18th year but also it's to give us some insight into Laurent's POV (which a couple of you asked for in the last chapter).
> 
> Haha sadly you won't be able to read Damen's letter from the last chapter, as I have decided to leave it ambiguous. It wasn't a love letter, I can tell you, but there is always hope for the future!
> 
> Also, chapter count may be going up pretty soon; year 18 and 19 are shaping up to be HUGE. Enjoy!

** Year 17 (Part 0) **

Vere was at war.

Damen received the briefing from the kyroi only one month before he was to leave for Arles. The second highest-ranking tribe in Vask had taken some unnamed offense to some Veretian dignitaries---at first, Damen thought it had the scent of Laurent’s diplomacy---but the dispute had ended with two of the ambassadors losing their heads. It was nothing less than an outright declaration of war and King Aleron answered with a vengeance.

Vere was at war with a large tribe in the mountain nation of Vask and effectively barred Damen from going to Arles that year.

He had raged to his father, begging to go and support his friend, to make the journey despite the new dangers of the mountain passes, but Theomedes had held strong. He sent a few caravans of supplies to Vere, but any intervention by the Akielon army, or---god forbid---the Crown Prince would jeopardize Akielos’ pacts with other tribes of Vask. Damen would have to spend his twenty-first year in Akielos without seeing either Laurent or Auguste.

It drove him mad with worry; he knew Auguste would be at the front lines and Laurent would be sick for fear that his brother would be in danger. Damen had not received word from them in weeks, although he had sent letters twice a month. Laurent had never responded to his original letter and Damen felt bitter bile whenever he thought of the failure.

Everyone, including young Timon, felt his displeasure as he wandered aimlessly through his own palace and the summer halls of Isthima, unable to concentrate. He was a lion penned in a marble cage.

Although he was distracted for a short time by dealing with some marauding pirates off the eastern coast, the golden princes of Vere were never far from his mind.

His luck broke in what would have been his second month in Arles, when a rider with a merchant caravan begged an audience with Damen while his leader bargained with the steward of Ios.

“Exalted One,” He said, his hands shaking as he extended a creamy white envelope.

Damen took it with curiosity, the envelope bulging with its’ contents. His heart seized in his chest as he recognized the fine, ornate script and the insignia pressed in the hardened crimson wax. _Laurent_ …

Damen hastily thanked the man with a golden coin and extracted a promise to bring any other letters sent by the prince of Vere before he ran back to his quarters. His door was barely shut before the seal on the envelope was broken and he was pulling out sheets of fine paper.

His heart swelled to the point of pain, he was so happy, as he began to read.

_Damianos,_

_I hope it pleases you to know that the pets of Arles are lamenting as if my father, the king, has died. You would think that your cock is the only one at court that has ever worked; I wish for your presence if only to silence them. Aside from you, my father and brother are also away to the border with most of the army, so I find the court severely lacking in both sense and intelligence._

_My father has ordered me to stay in Arles, in order to protect his lineage, I assume. I suppose…I understand his thinking but, I find life dull without my brother and it is infuriating to receive so little information._ (Damen knew Laurent’s subtleties well enough to realize that Laurent was lonely and extremely fearful for his brother’s safety). _My supply of books run thin so I’ll avail myself to write, though there is no guarantee that you will even receive them._

_Auguste calls me childish for not having responded to the apologetic letter you gave me in Ios. I found the letter itself lacking in eloquence and fine penmanship, though it was not poorly written._

_With my eighteenth birthday, my adulthood approaching, I feel I should prove him wrong, though you should know as well as anyone how distasteful I find useless displays of emotion, how I dislike emotional confrontation…_

_I realize now that you are a sentimental fool_ (Damen smiled wide at this), _but I can understand that it would not be prudent to have unsavory rumors swirling about me in a foreign court. I realize how false rumors have…injured my name in my own court; perhaps you had the foresight to realize the problems it could cause me in Ios. Auguste thinks I should thank you for that._

_I refuse to apologize._

_I cannot sleep on my own, I find, at least not restfully. Shadows move in Arles and I…they follow to Ios. Such is the fate of a prince: to have image be more important than my comfort. With you and Auguste gone, I cannot feel at ease._

_I tire of writing about this. Just know that I understand your sentiments, even though I disagree with them._

_I have all of the letters you have written to Auguste and myself; I thought it would ease your mind that they had not fallen by the wayside or taken by Vaskian raiders. God forbid if the Vaskians discover your obsession with pestering the royal family of Vere. I will hold on to Auguste’s letters; he is no position to answer them at the moment._

_I, however, have nothing better to do, so if you wish to practice your penmanship then I will respond to ease my boredom._

_Prince Laurent of Vere_

Damen laughed aloud at the end of the letter, letting the pages fall between his fingers onto his lap. The words dripped with Laurent’s careful sarcasm, each sentence layered with a double meaning, something he was unwilling to admit honestly, even in writing. He could practically _feel_ Laurent’s loneliness in the curves of his handwriting and he ached to embrace the Snow Prince.

So for Laurent’s seventeenth year, since Damen could not journey to Arles and he could not bring Laurent to Ios, he wrote nearly every week. And Laurent responded, each letter providing more insight into that brilliant but reticent mind.

Some were long, pages and pages of his thoughts, while others were just a line or two of painful reveries.

Damen waited for them all with eagerness.

_Damianos,_

_I think you are a fool for offering to come and bring Isander with you. Far be it from me to judge people on their intellect_ (Damen had to try very hard to not run and instantly write a scathing rebuttal) _but would it not be a fools’ errand to ride across the border with a librarian as your only companion? Do you not think the scores of bored pets I currently command would eat him alive? Do you really think I need another soul to worry over?_

_I am so glad my boredom is worth the life of the Crown Prince of Akielos._

_I shall remember the next time I am in Ios._

_My brother has won a decisive battle near Lys only yesterday; I realize that the news might reach you before you even receive my letter. Somehow writing about it eases my mind. If you were here I’m sure you would tell me that I am to go prematurely gray from worry._

_I will save you the effort of writing it._

_Prince Laurent of Vere_

_Damianos,_

_I refuse to dignify your inquiries with a response._

_Only my boredom makes your letters bearable to read, but if you vex me I swear to the gods, I will throw your letters into the fire unopened._

_Councilor Guion has offered to send Aimeric to keep me company in Arles. Maybe Auguste’s manners are rubbing off on me. Maybe the stress is getting to me. But I had not the heart to argue with him. I think the esteemed Councilor is hoping that I will fall in love with his son, or at the very least bed him._

_The new rumors about me say I am frigid, which I may use to my advantage in this situation. I am sure you are laughing as you read this_ (Damen was) _but I cannot even be bothered to explain._

_The longer this goes on, the more I am relieved that you prevented people from talking in Ios. Surely my court would lose their mind should the frigid younger Prince be sleeping with the biggest flower-thief Arles has ever encountered. I should hate to appear of a contradictory nature._

_Prince Laurent of Vere_

_Damianos,_

_I lack no time for reflection these days, and most times I think about Auguste. Morbid thoughts do not suit him, so they seem to hang around me in a cloud; another burden I must bear. With his absence, I remember things about him, things even my mind has forgotten._

_The other afternoon I remembered how I used to beat him at racing: his gold horse against my pony. It only struck me now how he must have been letting me win. He must have known how much it meant to me, to win against the Crown star of Vere, the unattainable._

_I thought of this as I heard horses on cobblestones, riding into the courtyard._

_The sound gives me unease; during war no one rides so hard with pleasant news. I am the prince, so the news falls to me. I must bear it with grace and dignity. I never would have considered a time when hearing my own brother’s name would fill me with such apprehension._

_Auguste lives and I rest easy._

_Prince Laurent of Vere_

_Damianos,_

_I have told you before that I do not want your pity. Sometimes I think half of the world must pity me: second son, second favorite, friendless, lying little slut. I do not need your pity; I have enough to last me a lifetime, thank you._

_I know you. I’ve known you for the last 4-5 years of my life and I know that you fancy yourself a golden prince and a hero of your people._

_You LIKE playing the hero._

_But your feelings about me are misguided. I never asked you to rescue me, I never asked you for protection; you gave that out of your feeling of honor. Curse you. Do you think I ever wanted to be the recipient of your honorable intentions??? I do not exist so that you can feel good playing the defender of the weak. Do you not see that I am so much MORE?_

_CURSE. YOU._

_I have never wanted ANY of this, aside from Auguste, my brother… If my life is to be a cruel joke, I would like to see the one who laughs. I would rather be with that person than someone who pities me for a fate I did not condone. How dare you?_

_Do you think your self-righteous pity consoles me as I wait for word from Auguste that comes in two or three sentences? As I eat next to my Uncle each night and_ (here an entire paragraph had been hastily scribbled out). _As I think what hell it would be to run this country on my own? Pitied by the future king of Akielos. Fuck you._

_You have always begged me to be honest and now I am. Do you like it?_

_I care not if any spies see this letter, though I keep them close before giving them to my messenger. Maybe then people will see that I am a product of a cruel fate. I can only hope they won’t fucking PITY ME._

_Don’t bother to write._

_Laurent_

Damen let this letter fall into his lap, biting his lip, head pulsing with the want to cry a little. He thumbed over the blotches and smudges and fierce writing, knowing that Laurent wrote this alone in his own chambers, as he let none see him cry.

Once again he had inadvertently hurt the Little Scholar with his words.

But he refused to let things stand as they were. He was going to write back an entire novel if he had to. He hated everything: that Laurent was alone, fearful for Auguste, surrounded by vile gossipers, and forced to sit every day next to a man who had made his life a living hell. And what was worse, one of his only confidantes had self-admitted to pitying him.

Aside from crying, Damen felt a burn unlike any he had ever encountered in his life.

Only his respect for his father’s wishes kept him from sprinting to the stables and riding immediately for Arles, war or no. His fierce protectiveness that had grown over the past four years raged deep in his gut and he did not know how he could handle not hearing from Laurent for perhaps until next year. It would be…torture.

He wanted to kidnap the young man, bring him to Isthima or Ios or anywhere so that Damen would make sure no one ever hurt him again. The feeling was…he couldn’t name it but it stripped him raw and bare.

He nearly upset the inkpot in his desperation to begin a new letter, when their trusted messenger begged an audience with Damen.

Damen rushed over to him. “Does anyone else touch these letters?” It infuriated him to think that someone else could be reading at these. That another could look into the contents of Laurent’s soul…He wished to be the only one.

“N-No, Exalted One.” The man replied, bowing his head. “His Majesty the Prince keeps them on his person until the day we leave and then I never let the letter leave my breast pocket. It is not opened again until you lay eyes on it. I am paid well to make it so.”

Much was Damen’s surprise when the man pulled out a second letter. Two in one trip?

“The Prince ran after me on the day we left; he had not the time to write more but…he requested I give this to you after you read his first correspondence. It seemed quite urgent.”

Damen felt fear sink into his bones. Surely, word of defeat or death would not have reached him through these means… With shaking hands he broke the seal, uncaring that the messenger was still present to gauge his reaction.

It was one sheet, all but bare.

_Damen,_

_I’m sorry. I lied. Don't leave me alone…_

_Please write._

_Laurent_

His knees gave way in relief, clutching that precious paper to his chest. Auguste lived and Laurent had forgiven him before he could write back. Fondness for the second prince, the second favorite, bubbled over and he laughed back tears.

“Thank you…You can expect my response before your departure. Thank you…”

Damen spent the next few minutes after the merchant left holding that beloved note close as if the paper itself was Laurent. He hoped miles away that the lonely little scholar could feel the warmth of his embrace.

_Damen,_

_Auguste has come home. I thought I knew relief. I knew nothing until the moment he came through the doors._

_I have no reason now to fear the sound of hoofbeats, the haggard look of messengers, the mystery of unopened letters…This war is finished and my brother and father are safe, thank god._

_Auguste apologizes for not responding to your letters or being able to host you in Arles this year. I tell him that he is a blatant fool; you will join us within the next six months instead of us coming to Ios. He assures me he will write you at his earliest convenience. My father is in good spirits, but war does not seem to suit Auguste. I believe he prefers peace to violence except…in certain cases…_

_My father and Auguste have made a new alliance with Halvik of the southern mountains of Vask. We will provide her and her people goods in return for their protection of our borders and curtailing of rival tribes. There was no mention of a marriage so maybe they did not consider Auguste of the material to breed great warriors. Living so close to the Akielon border, I can only wonder why not._

_If Auguste were to know about our extensive correspondence (which I am sure he will discover soon), no doubt he would wish me to thank you._

(Here there was another huge block of text blackened with ink).

_I refuse._

_I am sure you have drawn your own conclusions from my letters; you know how I dislike being transparent, so you seem to enjoy mincing my words and drawing haphazard conclusions. I don’t know why you derive such pleasure from attempting to gain my trust. I would think some things would be glaringly obvious…but I may have underestimated you in that respect…_

_Regardless, I will tell you that it has eased my boredom to correspond with you. And to kindle your ego, you now may be half close equal to Auguste in my regards of you. Congratulations._

_I will go now to be with my brother; I will get drunk on being around him as now I know the pain of his absence. Speaking of which, we will have acutely felt yours. I am sure Auguste will wish to plan your visit next year with all haste. Everything fills me with warmth._

_By the time I see you again, I shall be in my eighteenth year._

_Laurent_

By the time Damen was ready to make the journey to Arles, he had nearly two years worth of letters from Laurent: 104 total letters, but at least 800 individual pages written in the younger prince’s hand. Valuable to Damen, the letters rested in a locked chest under his bed and he would occasionally pull some out and read them to ease his mind. Laurent’s mind was like magic: each time he read, he felt like he was discovering something new, making a realization or unlocking another puzzle that he could not solve.

No other human could compare.

He could barely contain his excitement the day it was time to ride for Arles again. He could see Auguste again. And Laurent…he didn’t want to admit it to himself, but, almost more than anyone else, he longed to see Laurent.


	14. Year 18: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and Gentlemen...now what you've all been waiting for!  
> A lot of you wondered what Auguste would be like at this point in the story and I have him torn between happy about the whole situation and protective over his bebe; Damen can only blame himself for being such a sex beast.  
> Also our bebe has come so far! In the 1st chapter they teased him for his lack of diplomacy and now he's the best at it. Still argues with Damen though. God I hope you all are ready for some sugar-sweet chapters!  
> Enjoy!

** Vere: Year 18 (Part 1) **

Damen was not the first off his horse. In fact he had not even slowed his horse to a complete stop before Pallas had hit the ground running, tears streaming down his fine, dark cheeks. Two years had been agony for him as well. Lazar simply opened his arms and the two of them were lost to the world.

Damen smiled good-naturedly as the rest of the men hooted in ribald encouragement. He was going to have to discuss these two with Auguste. It seemed cruel to keep them parted when they had been so deeply in love for the better part of three years.

The reunion was one of the most joyous in recent memory.

Nikandros and Jord embraced in camaraderie and began to chatter to each other, no doubt engaging in some merciless ribbing. All around familiar Veretian faces were swarming the small group of Akielons so that Damen could hardly keep up with how many people were greeting him.

Damen’s heart seized up when he saw the crowd parting for Auguste.

Auguste ran the last few meters, people practically leaping out of his way and he hit Damen with his full force. They were too exhilarated to do their normal greeting, but just embraced fiercely, Auguste’s hands clasping large fistfuls of Damen’s hair. Damen was laughing.

When they finally tore away, he looked his friend up and down. Gently he took Auguste’s face in his hands, stroking the fine skin there. Auguste closed his eyes at the feeling.

“Thank you for writing me.”

Auguste, who had looked to be on the verge of tears, burst into hysterical laughter. He had only written Damen three or four times in the past two years. “Oh I’m sorry! There was a war in my way. I shall have to rearrange my priorities. Asshole.”

Damen beamed and pressed his forehead against Auguste’s. This was bliss.

When they finally broke apart and were equally greeted by the other’s men, Damen turned to his friend, feeling a lack of company. “Where is my Little Scholar?” Auguste raised an eyebrow in momentary confusion. “Where is Laurent?” Damen remedied.

Auguste glowed with his foolish brotherly adoration. “Undoubtedly in his new study. He would prefer to avoid the crowd I am sure.” Deftly, Damen ducked out of the crowd with Auguste close at his heels. He was a man possessed, weaving easily through the throng of people while Auguste chattered away. “He was invaluable to me you know; people said he was in the library from sunup to sundown writing letters. Wrote thousands of them in Veretian and Patran and Vaskian and sent them out to muster forces for my father and I. I don’t think we would have made our new alliance without him. When I came back, I set him up with a new study right by my rooms. I told him that I had never seen someone with such a hand for diplomacy, and so I am going to make him my head of foreign affairs when I am king. He is…”

 _Invaluable_ , Damen thought to himself.

Damen had completely forgotten about Auguste trailing behind him as he reached the oaken doors to Laurent’s new study. He could feel his heart beating in his fingertips as he touched the wood and it felt like the wood was pulsing.

Maybe it was because he was excited to see his friend, the one he had been corresponding with almost every week for the past two years. And he was nervous…That struck him. _Nervous_! Damianos…who could charge into battle without even the slightest hesitation or carve out his place in a foreign court with ease. He was nervous.

Truly, Laurent was a force of nature to shake him so.

So it was with a firm fist and a shaking heart that he knocked solidly on the doors before swinging them open.

To Auguste’s benefit, the room was beautiful. Cozy and organized, it promised natural light as long as the sun was up, which was perfect for a scholar. There was an entire wall covered in shelves of books and a large table covered in maps, letters, and books of languages and strategy.

Laurent stood from his desk, the sun gilding him the same color as his hair. For a moment he looked ethereal, unreal…like a statue from his own garden, an expression of soft surprise on those fine features.

For Damen it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

He could name it now. That feeling that he had when people saw Laurent in his bed. The feeling he had opening Laurent’s letters, underneath his anticipation and delight. When Kastor trailed Laurent, when Laurent slept against him, when he had cried for Damen to see him as a man and not a brat, when he had begged Damen not to pity him, cracking open that perfectly cultivated shell… He had a name now for all those unnamed emotions that had roiled with a fury and beat through his blood and left him in a hazy confusion, much as Laurent always did.

He knew this feeling---in fact, he was a fool for not realizing it earlier---and it hit him like swift punches in the stomach. He couldn’t breathe.

Laurent smiled then, just for a moment, and rounded his desk at a jog.

He had to jump a little for his embrace, so that his lips were close to Damen’s ear. “Damianos,” he said and there was a laugh in his voice, “you had best not try and crush me this time. I’ll fight you.”

Damen could barely comprehend the words as he clutched Laurent’s back, carefully as if he were cupping glass. It was electrifying, holding the real person and hearing that light, snarky voice.

Laurent pulled his upper body back so that he could get a good look at Damen.

As a youth, he had been an unparalleled beauty, but there was no guarantee he would keep that nearly androgynous look into adulthood. True, he had the musculature of a swordsman and Damen could feel the trim taper of his waist through his tight laces, but his face was still breathtaking. His face had the strength of a man’s, but the features were still nearly effeminate in their prettiness. Damen’s throat felt raw.

“Little Scholar…”

Laurent threw back his head in a mixture of a laugh and a shout of disbelief. “I am as tall as Auguste and you persist in calling me ‘Little’!”

“Laurent.” His head snapped back up and he met Damen’s eyes in all seriousness. “I’ve missed you…”

Though it was almost imperceptible, Laurent’s expression softened, no doubt as he remembered all the secretive thoughts shared between them in their letters. “You sentimental fool.” Damen started as he felt cool, slender hands on the base of his skull, pushing his head forward. Laurent closed his eyes as he rested his forehead against Damen’s, the tips of their noses touching.

Damen was too afraid to even breathe. He could see the fine freckles on Laurent’s cheeks and the pale gold of his long eyelashes. If he were to breathe, he would shatter this moment…

It was Auguste who interrupted, clearing his throat.

Laurent looked to his brother, love saturating his features, and Damen inhaled deeply. The spot on his forehead felt as though it had been burned.

Auguste’s mouth twisted in a funny smile. “You. Foreign madman, if you will relinquish my little brother,” Laurent rolled his blue eyes at the ‘little’ part, “we can greet my father and then you can get to work on the pets of my court. I daresay we’ve quite the crop of new faces since your last visit.”

Laurent gave an evil, sharp smile at the mention of pets and slipped silkily out of Damen’s grasp to join his brother.

It was an odd feeling to walk down the familiar halls of Arles flanked by both princes. Long gone were the days when Auguste and Damen strode in intimate conversation several paces ahead of Laurent; now Laurent kept up with ease, his long legs putting him at the same height as his brother. Though his expression was marble-smooth, Damen could feel the fierce pride radiating from his confident stride.

For what King Aleron had gained in confidence of both his golden sons’ abilities, he had more than made up for with the gray hairs that came from the stresses of war. He had also taken an injury on his leg and walked with a slight limp.

Damen acknowledged it as a soldier would, a simple fact of war.

“An old man like me has no place in battle anymore.” Aleron took the statement with a friendly clap on Damen’s shoulder. “But I consider it a small price to pay for a threat eliminated and an ally gained. I should thank you and your father too for providing support. If I had a daughter to give in marriage I would.”

Damen smiled with benevolence. “I need no princess to complicate matters at home, though I appreciate your kindness. My brother has Akielos safe in heirs.” Thanks to Kastor’s harem, he explained, he was now up to two nephews and a little niece.

They continued on in this vein for quite some time.

Damen noticed, as Aleron limped about that Auguste’s uncle was watching him smoothly. Though his expression gave nothing away, Damen had the feeling that he was waiting, like a crocodile surveying an injured old lion. Curse him, if he was not contented with molesting his nephew and watching his brother injure himself, Damen was concerned for Auguste. He would discuss it with him later that evening.

Truly Damen wished the man could be banished from court so…so Laurent would not have to see him daily or talk to his abuser with deference.

Even now, even though Laurent was a grown man of eighteen, Damen blocked him from view, using his body to shield him as he had when the prince was a tiny helpless kid. Not so helpless anymore…

He had to stop thinking about it or the rage would consume him.

Auguste was gazing at him with something akin to concern as the five of them walked to dinner and it seemed to deepen with every course.

Damen sat between Auguste and King Aleron, but his mind was elsewhere. He took minimal part in dinnertime conversation about Auguste’s possible betrothal to a Patran princess---since that was the only nation Vere currently did not have strong ties to. He picked at the sumptuous food and gazed vacantly at the pets who were openly flirting by flicking the gem-encrusted studs in their nipples and navels.

He was, as Laurent had been the very first dinner in Arles: dazed and thoughtful in this whirlwind of a lustful court.

If Auguste’s confusion was building during dinner, it most certainly piqued after the feast had finished and Damen had not chosen someone to escort him to bed. The pets and soldiers and noblemen were sorely disappointed.

“What…in the hell is going on?” Auguste hissed, closing the door to his chambers behind them. “Are you sick?” He touched the back of his hand to Damen’s cheeks. “Is there some problem at home? Are you _impotent_?”

Damen was severely affronted and it did not help that Auguste was doubled over with laughter, his worries somehow vanished in the face of Damen’s horrified expression.

“What has prompted this line of questioning? Of course I’m not!”

“In all your years in Vere,” Auguste began, sitting on his bed, “I can count on both my hands of the times you have gone to bed without a lover. Usually it was when something very drastic was going on so…Laurent will be here within the next ten minutes after he settles his affairs. What is going on?”

“You are too astute…” Damen sighed.

When it appeared that Damen was debating over telling Auguste what he was thinking about, Auguste sighed and pulled Damen to sit next to him on the bed. “Damianos…you can trust me. I will not betray your trust. Please tell me what has you worried so…”

It was not the type of betrayal Damen was worried about. But he was soothed by Auguste’s concern.

He gave a soul-wracking sigh and took Auguste’s hands in his. Auguste gave an encouraging smile that made Damen shudder with guilt. “Auguste…during your last time in Ios when…you were with your ladies or sick in Isthima I…Laurent and I spoke quite a bit.” At the mention of Laurent, Auguste let a whisper of unease flash across his features, but he composed himself quickly. “And while you were at war we were on a weekly correspondence.”

“Is there something the matter with my brother?”

“You…could say that…” Damen squeezed his friends’ hand in reassurance. “Auguste…may I ask your permission…”

“I’ll not marry you.” Auguste defended quickly, looking torn between laughter and genuine fear. Damen laughed too, the joke dissipating some of his nervousness.

“I’d not ask that of you, my friend, as much as I’d love to have you around everyday. No…What I would like to do…I ask---no, I beg your permission… to court your younger brother.” Auguste’s mouth dropped open. “Please, allow me to try and court Laurent.”

Auguste’s face underwent an alarming array of emotions.

First there was shock and disbelief, followed closely by fleeting anger and indignation before it was replaced with shaky laughter. Damen let it sink in; gods knew it had taken him at least two years to put a name to his own feelings. It was love…he knew it.

“You’re lying.” Auguste said through his laughter, though it came out unsure.

Damen had no time to defend his claim or refute Auguste as there came a knock at the door and it swung open with no announcement. Auguste and Damen both bolted to their feet, dropping hands and standing stiffly as if they were children caught doing something illicit.

Damen’s heart beat lopsidedly as he saw Laurent standing in the door, dressed in loose Veretian pajamas. It would be the first time he would sleep in the same room as Damen since their argument in Ios. Damen was struggling not to appear unduly excited by the prospect. He could feel Auguste glaring holes into his head.

Laurent closed the door behind him and loped up to his brother. Sensitive to the emotional nuances of his secretive courtiers, Laurent felt something amiss with his brother and pulled up short.

“A-Auguste…is everything---“

Auguste smiled, wiping any other negativity from his features. He embraced his brother, snuggling his face into that soft blond hair. “Nothing. Damen and I were discussing father’s injury. Hardly a topic warranting a smile.” Damen was in awe of how easy and believable the lie sounded; sometimes he forgot that Auguste had also been born and bred in this two-faced country and could lie with the best of them.

Mollified, Laurent released his brother and stared at Damen.

“Damianos, are you staying with us this evening? No pet? No nobleman?” The very thought to Damen was distasteful. “Are you impotent?”

Auguste snorted and Damen threw up his hands in exasperation. “Heaven forbid I don’t take someone to bed! I have not seen Auguste in two years and I…I…” He glanced at Auguste who looked coolly interested in how Damen would salvage his thoughts. “I have no ulterior motive.”

Laurent raised one eyebrow and his face fell a bit. “If…you don’t want the court to talk…I can leave.” There was a slight edge to his voice; he never seemed to forget a slight.

Damen’s heart cracked a little, but he could not be as open as he was in his writing. Auguste, eagle-eyed, was watching. So he contented himself with placing one hand on Laurent’s golden head, resisting the urge to stroke the fine strands.

“Stay, please. I’ve not seen you in two years either. And I cannot have rumors start that I am impotent.”

Laurent beamed in response.

Damen had never felt so content as he had sitting with the two brothers on Auguste’s bed, even though the owner scrutinized him intensely in between their conversation. And even when Laurent succumbed to sleep first, exhausted from his day’s work, Auguste clutched him close, jealously guarding his precious brother.

If Damen was not so intimately acquainted with Laurent’s previous ‘suitors’, he might have been insulted. Instead he just sighed.

“Auguste, I am not a scoundrel.” He whispered in the darkness.

“We will discuss that matter tomorrow.” Auguste hissed in response. “In the meantime…I swear on my crown, on my very life, if you touch my brother tonight I’ll cut off your cock.”

“Auguste, I would never---“

Laurent stirred slightly at Damen’s protests and Damen felt a strong kick on his thigh. “ _Your cock, Damianos_!” Refusing to argue, Damen shrugged and confined himself to the furthest edge of the bed; there was no point in making enemies tonight.

He was not able to properly explain to his friend until the next afternoon.

While Laurent retired to his study after lunch, Auguste and Damen skipped their usual exercise to take a walk in the orchards; they were usually empty at this time of the year, save a gardener or two. At least Auguste seemed to have calmed down after a night’s rest and two meals. It also helped that Damen had remained true to his word and had been treating Laurent as nothing more than a beloved brother. His cock was intact.

“Start at the beginning, why don’t you?” Auguste sounded exhausted.

Damen thought back to the moment he realized, but he couldn’t put a finger on when it had actually happened. His love had just changed over time; starting with the protective feeling for that fiercely proud kid, into the fondness for his determination to protect himself, into the fascination of the young man with the brilliant mind. Falling in love with Laurent had been effortless, as easy as drawing breath.

“I’ve always loved him,” Damen admitted, and when Auguste narrowed his eyes, Damen backtracked. “Not romantically! I was in love with _you_ for quite some time…he was the younger brother I always wanted but…now my feelings have simply…grown.”

Damen’s expression must have given away some semblance of sincerity, for Auguste groaned in response. “Fine! Fine. Suppose I believe you: you’ve fallen in love with my brother. How do I know your intentions are honorable?”

Damen was outraged. “Auguste! We have known each other five years now! How could you consider me dishonorable?”

Auguste’s face was pained and Damen felt pangs of guilt. “In most ways you _are_ honorable Damen. A better friend and confidante I have never known; but Laurent is my most treasured younger brother. And he has been so cruelly… _mistreated_ in the name of lust.” His uncle and Govart remained unspoken. “You’ll forgive me if I am hesitant...”

Damen stopped Auguste under the shade of one of the old trees, taking him by both shoulders. “I would never, _never_ do such things to him. If he has no interest, I will recede my affections without question, as I did with you. But you must believe me when I say I have every intention of courting your brother with grace and honor.”

Auguste looked at him with incredulity. “I have seen you bed half of my court, often two or three at a time.”

“Dear god,” Damen sputtered and tried not to laugh, “That is true but…as I _keep_ saying, I intend to woo him with all respect; I’ll not bed him immediately like those vapid pets. He is more valuable to me than to be treated so callously. Gods, you brothers have selective hearing...”

August looked as though he did not want to believe Damen, but resigned himself to the fact.

“Curse you for your blasted honesty.” He sighed, sinking to a seat under the boughs of the tree. “You may be an unstoppably strong, whore of a foreign giant, but you are not a liar… and I know you care enough for Laurent not to disrespect him so.”

“Don’t hold back.” Damen responded sarcastically, plopping down next to his friend. “Please tell me how you really regard me.”

Auguste laughed, relaxing visibly. “Why Laurent? Why my brother?”

Damen sat thoughtfully for a moment, gazing up at the blue chips of the sky that cut through the leaves. “He’s a force of nature. An unstoppable force. How could you not adore him? You’re right, I am strong; there’s no one my match for rank and strength in four kingdoms. Save for him. When he writes, when he argues with me, I feel alive with the challenge. He is one of the truest men I have ever met: good and honest and diligent and upright. He works so hard to be an asset you and to better himself with swordplay and learning, and he protects people who cannot protect themselves.” He thought of Laurent’s fierce defense of Aimeric and Isander, how he was determined to give them something even a prince had been deprived of. “Everyone delights of his looks but…he is so much _more_.” All of these feelings had been building up over five years until Damen had realized all of the qualities he admired in Laurent were beloved.

“Please stop before I am sick.” Auguste begged, seeing that Damen could go on at length. “Are you sure we are talking about the same Laurent? His wit and determination are not widely regarded as his most popular traits.”

Damen grinned, knowing that Auguste was just as biased. “They do not know him as I do. Auguste,” Damen felt as though weights were lifted off of his whole body, “I _love_ him.”

Auguste looked at him with a faintly sour expression.

Damen realized Auguste was so used to the Veretians and their veiled lies, he was searching for the lie in Damen’s expression and coming up short. The back of Auguste’s head hit the tree trunk with a dull thud and he also looked up to the sky with a groan.

“They warned me about you, you know? Before you came to Arles. My friends and ambassadors warned me that you liked lovers with my coloring. So it wasn’t entirely a surprise when you confessed your love to me…but I never for one moment thought that you would prefer Laurent.”

Damen clapped him on the shoulder. “Do you think me so shallow to only go for looks? True, for slaking lust I like certain features. But I fell in love with the content of your character, Auguste. The same goes for Laurent. I love his---“

“Please don’t start that again!” Auguste interrupted, running his hands through his hair. “I am well aware of my brother’s charms, thank you… I am outwitted. I give permission…”

Damen’s heart flipped inside of his chest.

“Excuse me?”

Auguste’s smile was wry, as though he wanted to tease Damen, but he was not as wicked as his younger brother. “I give you permission to court Laurent; god knows, most people in Arles would consider it a futile pursuit. But I know you Damianos. I know you are trustworthy and virtuous and that my brother would not be ill-matched in someone with your patience. I’ve seen how you treat lovers, and I would not wish for Laurent to be treated any less lovingly.”

Damen was so elated he took both of Auguste’s hands in his own and kissed his calloused knuckles. “I swear on our friendship…I will---“

“You had better.” Auguste’s voice was flinty. When Damen looked up Auguste was smiling very much like his brother. “My threat still stands. If you break Laurent’s heart, if you make him cry…I’ll cut off your cock.”

 

Damen had to go about this very carefully.

He had never courted someone of such high rank much less a man who was widely considered to be a frigid bitch. There was no guarantee that Laurent preferred anyone, much less if he preferred men. Even if he did enjoy the attentions of men, perhaps Damen was not his type…

He would have continued in this thought process, but Damen’s personality was not made for negativity. He did delight in strategy and puzzles and no one--- _no one_ , aside from Auguste---knew Laurent as well as he did.

He stepped lightly down the marble halls, thinking to himself, formulating a plan, but right now the most important thing was just to see Laurent and talk with him as they had so many years before.

He rapped his knuckles lightly against the heavy wood of the door and pushed in without waiting for a response.

Laurent’s head snapped up as if he were about to be very annoyed, but he rolled his eyes at the sight of Damen. “I forgot: barbarians don’t ask permission.” _You have no idea_ , Damen thought.

“I’m sure I would have caught you doing something illicit.” Damen shot back, exhilarated by the beginning of a verbal battle. Laurent laughed sarcastically at the thought. “What are you doing, Snow Prince?”

With his heart beating erratically, Damen picked his way across the study, running his fingers along the spines of Laurent’s books and across the detailed faces of his maps. He pulled up a spare chair so that he could sit next to Laurent and watch him work. When Laurent did not look up from his writing or respond, Damen began to bother him.

He began by methodically poking Laurent’s cheeks, and when Laurent swatted his hand away without looking up, Damen rubbed his index finger between Laurent’s pale eyebrows in an attempt to massage the furrow of concentration there.

“What are you doing Laurent?”

“God damn you. I am translating a letter from my father to our ambassador in Patras. Now, at the risk of my sanity, are there any other questions or comments you feel inclined to make before I continue?” His face looked irritated, but his eyes were shining with good humor.

Damen leaned closer. “Your extra chairs are extremely uncomfortable.”

“I did that on purpose.” Laurent smiled as he re-dipped his pen. “I commissioned uncomfortable hardwood chairs to keep people from sitting too long in my study. I prefer to be left alone to work and I’m interested to see how long you last.”

“Is that a challenge?” Damen shifted; the craftsman of these had outdone himself.

Laurent shrugged as though he cared little for Damen’s thoughts, but as he reapplied himself to his translation a small smile played at the corner of his lips. His focus, as usual, was legendary but even he was not immune to Damen’s restlessness as he attempted to find a comfortable position in his chair.

“Curse you for a sadist!” Damen finally exclaimed and Laurent laughed aloud. Damen could sit no longer in discomfort and rose hastily, rubbing his sore ass. “How is it possible for furniture to be so hellish?”

Laurent was delighted as he wrote in his lovely script. “I was told it was a trade secret.”

Damen refused to admit defeat to Laurent’s calculated cruelty, so he simply made laps around the room, observing the various books and knick-knacks that Laurent had assembled in his personal space. Occasionally he glanced over to regard Laurent’s lovely profile. His hands danced across the clean tops of the books and…he stopped for a moment as he noticed a small white scrap peeking around from one of the highest shelves near Laurent’s personal favorite books. Gently he tugged it out and let it fall into his hands.

Edges curling, dust settled in the corners, Damen cradled his own handiwork: a half-squashed, but intact paper flower he had folded and thrown at Laurent.

The last time he had seen these flowers were…he imagined them crushed under the heavy boots of Govart, destroying the delicate white petals. Though the thought was enough to make his blood boil, it was replaced by overt fondness upon realizing that one had survived and had been kept safe.

“Laurent?”

He gave a deep sigh. “Yes?”

“Are you happy?”

He hid the paper flower as he heard the sound of the pen hitting the desk; Laurent was notoriously private and probably would not like Damen seeing this token of sweetness. When Damen turned, he met those gorgeous, deep blue eyes, now flecked gold with the afternoon sun. Damen could not make out his expression with the glare.

“Happy? I suppose…I am contented, as I am now.”

“What would make you happy?” There was nothing Damen wanted to know more.

“I…” the question threw Laurent off-guard and he had to pause and formulate a witty response. “I’ve never given it much thought… I suppose you would expect me to say happiness would be you leaving me in peace. But I would hate to be consistent with your idea of me and…it’s not true. Although I don't want you to breathe down my neck, I don’t want you to leave.”

Damen stealthily placed the flower back on one of the shelves and meandered back to Laurent. He placed himself behind the lone comfortable chair and gently placed his hands on Laurent’s lean shoulders. He could tell the prince was relaxed only because he knew it was Damen. The sunlight dyed his skin the same gold as his hair and Damen had to struggle not to tremble as he touched Laurent’s bare skin. It was fine and smooth as silk, but also had the warmth of the sun and the velvety feel of peach skin.

Ever so slightly, he began to squeeze the tense muscles he found there, massaging out the knots of stress. “So transparent today?”

Laurent gave a little murmur of appreciation as Damen kneaded hard by his neck. “You have read my letters. I--- _ohhh,_ there---think it is unfair to provide you any more clues about me. You said it--- _ah_ \---yourself: you like a challenge.”

Damen squeezed the base of Laurent’s white neck and leaned close. Laurent could not see, but if Damen were to move any closer, his lips would brush Laurent’s pink ear. “I do know you. You are trying to bait me into changing the subject.” He could practically feel Laurent glowing with a smile. “But my question still stands: what would make you happy?”

Damen had a feeling only Auguste had ever asked him such a questions.

“I suppose if I sit hunched over for this long, I shall develop the stooped back of an old scholar.” He rolled his shoulders under Damen’s careful ministrations. “I wouldn’t be displeased if this massage continues…”

“Did you never request one in Ios?” Damen inquired lightly. “Let me know if there’s too much pressure.”

Laurent shuddered a little as Damen really dug his thumbs in. “I could not. Usually it’s immediately after--- _oh_!---a bath, correct? So I would be mostly naked and a stranger would have to touch me me--- _ow_! That hardly sounds like an activity I could enjoy…”

Damen pushed his palms into the spots near Laurent’s shoulder blades. “You’re letting me touch you.”

“I am not naked.” Laurent remarked saucily; as usual he was laced from his throat to his wrists in wine brocade and black thread. “And you are not a stranger. I know you don’t do so now, but you used to hold and carry me all the time… _Ahh_! I am rather used to your touch.”

Damen felt breathless.

He ached to hold Laurent, awake or asleep. But it wouldn’t be right, not to mention the fact that Auguste would decimate him. Instead, he just patted Laurent on the neck, noting the lightning-fast pulse beneath his skin. Apparently, Laurent was not completely at ease with Damen’s touch either. He understood…

Gently, he placed a chaste brotherly kiss on Laurent’s blond head.

“I will do this for you whenever you wish.”

The tops of Laurent’s ears were flushed but he remained exceedingly cool. “If I am in desperate need of curtains, I will call you in to block the sun.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so small.” He responded, ruffling Laurent’s hair.

Laurent’s ears went dark red at the jab to his size. “I am not small. _You_ are a giant in comparison! I am a perfectly average adult man.”

“Yes, average…That _is_ how I would describe you.” Damen lied.

Laurent’s eyes flashed at the challenge as he turned to look at Damen. “Are you _sure_ you want to start this battle with me?” A feeling of warm excitement filled Damen’s chest as he saw the familiar determination on Laurent’s face.

“Little Scholar,” Laurent’s expression darkened at the teasing nickname, “I have been waiting two years to fight with you.”


	15. Year 18 (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added more to the chapter count; trust me we'll need it. I hope this is the last expansion buuuuut...I can't be 100% positive haha!   
> In this chapter, Damen shows off and is generally just a smooth motherfucker. I always imagined he would be SO unbearably charming when it came to flirting/courting...just a love machine ;) By the way, (if you would like) after reading this chapter look up 'Akhal Teke' to get an idea of what kind of gift Damen decided on (or do it before you read and spoil the surprise).   
> Hope you all enjoy the equal parts fluff and angst in this chapter!

** Vere: Year 18 (Part 2) **

Although many people thought Damen was brash and headstrong, his years of military training had given him a quiet thoughtfulness and ironclad patience needed for sieges and strategy-planning. And if he seemed to be more attentive or spend most of his waking hours near the younger prince of Vere, then most chalked it up to the fact that Damen was getting his two year’s worth of Laurent’s company (though most thought a single conversation was all you could stand for two years). There was more concern in the court of Arles over the fact that Damen had not taken a lover to bed in the entirety of the three weeks he had been back in Vere.

Damen could not focus on any other potential suitor.

Though some had Laurent’s fair coloring, they lacked his poise and unparalleled intelligence. Damen could find no equal in any other. And he had no time to focus on his celibacy; he was on a mission to discover Laurent’s unspoken delights and desires.

He already had one idea, but it would have to be commissioned when he returned to Akielos…

Out of respect for both Laurent and Auguste an from his own chivalrous nature, Damen never held Laurent in his sleep and only bathed together when Auguste was present. His courting reputation was unblemished. Still, he spent most afternoons and evenings solely in Laurent’s company. Most of the time they sparred.

It was all friendly, but by god was it a challenge.

Damen stood in the sparring ring now, a single bead of sweat running down his left temple. He actually had to pause and think for this bout, because Laurent was giving him a run for his money.

Even the older soldiers hesitated to place a bet because Laurent was so formidable.

Laurent grinned before lunging forward with chilling efficiency, his blade slicing down where Damen’s shoulder had been only a moment before. Damen spun and resisted the urge to slap Laurent on the ass with the flat of his own blade to infuriate him, instead expertly jabbing toward his torso. Laurent pushed himself backwards and flung a fistful of dry dust at Damen’s face in an attempt to blind him.

There was a murmur of disapproval from their audience, and some men looked infuriated, as if this trick had been successfully employed on them before. Damen just listened for movement and rolled out of the way while he rubbed dirt from his eyes.

“You fight like a woman.” He remarked teasingly.

There were laughs from their spectators, sure to irritate Laurent’s pride, and Laurent did not let him down for a response. From what Damen could see through the grit, Laurent raised his chin in defiance. “If I fought like a woman I would simply promise you sex and then poison your wine as you imagined it.”

Auguste could not stifle his laughter and some of the soldiers snickered despite themselves. Laurent could be very funny when he was being cruel to someone else.

“With you as my lover, I would drink it!” Someone shouted from the sidelines.

The next round of laughter bought Damen enough time to clear his vision and engage Laurent in a swift volley of thrusts and jabs. Laurent parried expertly but his teeth were gritted in annoyance; despite his increasing skill, he was still not on Damen’s level.

Damen smiled over Laurent’s increasing annoyance.

When Laurent was annoyed, his face remained calm but there was a very subtle clench in his jaw and his skin flushed a very attractive shade of pink. And he could not hide the sweat or the burning desire to win that flickered hot and blue in his eyes. Damen liked this feisty prince, so unlike his normal icy façade.

Just when Laurent was tipping on the edge of being angry, Damen struck. He dodged Laurent’s latest attack and instead of attacking in return, he grabbed the young man round the waist and pulled him tight up against his chest. Laurent squeaked as Damen put his blade right under Laurent’s fine chin, as he had seen pirates do, and Laurent’s ears went dark pink.

There was a moment of silent shock before an amazed cheer went up at Damen’s chilling dispatch.

“Soldiers of Arles,” Damen shouted, refusing to remove his sword yet, “I have taken your second prince captive. For his safe release, I will be ransoming him for some of your gold.”

Laurent looked supremely confused until several unwilling soldiers of Vere walked forward and handed him a handful of golden coins. Laurent’s eyes narrowed as Damen released him. “You bet that you would win?”

“Mmmm, close.” Damen jingled the gold in his fist. “I bet that you would lose.”

Laurent gave a small laugh in disbelief. “Cocky foreigner.”

Auguste shook his head in feigned disgust as Damen followed Laurent out of the ring. Laurent was also pretending to be upset, but Damen knew he was just waiting for a moment alone to begin bantering again. He caught up easily and ruffled Laurent’s blond hair until Laurent slapped his hands away.

“If it makes you feel better, your gold is much lovelier than mine.”

“I shall remember that when I buy a new horse.” Laurent stated sarcastically. “I’m sure the horse breeder will be most gracious when I shave my head in his presence and present him with tufts of hair. I will tell him the Crown Prince of Akielos sends his regards.”

“So touchy! And to think I was going to share my winnings with you…”

“How kind,” Laurent’s tone was dry as he reached the barrels of fresh water and towels, “I was desperately in need of four ill-gotten coins from my own ransom.”

Damen had to take a drink from one of the barrels as his throat became rather dry upon watching Laurent sponge the sweat off of him. It was entrancing to watch his skin cool back to creamy white and to watch the water trickle down his nape and wrists. He had to look away to the stables to maintain some semblance of propriety. However, it did give him a new topic of conversation.

“You’re going to get a new horse?”

“It is long past due.” Laurent snatched another towel and patted himself dry. “What with the hunt we are planning…My current is near reaching thirty and I doubt she’ll be able to keep up. I was supposed to have received one on my seventeenth birthday, as is the custom here, but I suppose…with the war it was overlooked. I can hardly complain.”

For a moment, Damen was struck with pain over the thought of Laurent alone on his birthday and for two years not receiving the customary gift of his own country. He tried to lighten the mood. “I didn’t know you could hunt. Are you going to be killing stag with dictionaries?”

Laurent rolled his eyes but he was fighting hard not to smile. “I believe you are the only one with the brute strength to beat something to death with a book.” His bright look dimmed as he wiped off his neck. “I…am not _fond_ of hunting, per se…but, when I am in the castle alone, and Auguste and all the soldiers have ridden off…I find it rather…” he clutched the neck of his shirt, “ _stifling_ …”

Damen’s well-trained mind immediately began to translate Laurent’s words and body language into what he actually meant.

The last time Damen had hunted with the court of Arles, Laurent had been…Damen remembered Auguste panicking at the sight of a stableboy, a frantic ride through the forest, and a pale boy wringing his hands…It was no wonder Laurent seemed so nervous now. The idea of a hunt or his brother riding away probably scared him more than he was ever willing to admit.

Damen had made it his life goal to never let Laurent be so fearful again.

“I’m sure the court will be shocked when you take down a beast on your first hunt.”

“You have such faith in me?” Laurent asked, smiling a little despite himself. “I would think otherwise, based on your newfound riches.”

Damen meandered over to clap him on the shoulder, but inside he longed to run his hands up Laurent’s neck into his damp golden hair. “Shall we ride before dinner? If you would like me to teach you anything, of course I’ll oblige.” Gently he stacked four of his coins on Laurent’s head.

Laurent’s horse was indeed on her last legs. Though she was well-bred and creamy white, she got to her feet slowly and moved like a horse ready for retirement. She was quite unlike Damen’s headstrong and energetic stallion. Laurent was kinder to her than he was to most people around him; he stroked her muzzle and murmured gently in babyish Veretian.

“Would you like a short ride with me before dinner?” Damen asked.

“I wonder how many men you’ve said that to in these stables.” Laurent laughed. Damen felt his face burn red that his reputation preceded him. “I’m joking, you need not look so upset. I’ll ride with you, but I’ll warn you: I stink.”

Although he felt it imprudent a time to say, Damen secretly thought that he would prefer a sweating Laurent to the most perfumed of pets. “No need to be shy. If you cannot ride well, you can ride in front of me as you did in Isthima.”

Now it was Laurent’s turn to blush. “Luckily there are more than two horses available, so you will not enjoy that luxury.”

“I’m sure I could find a poor bargain somewhere around Arles.”

Laurent shook with laughter as he bridled his horse.

As the two of them took the easy ride to the edge of the forest, they mostly sat in comfortable silence. Laurent only broke the quiet to suggest riding down some of the local trails so that they would not become hopelessly lost whilst talking. Damen agreed and followed Laurent into the darkness of the northern forest.

During the midday it was a much brighter than in the early morning of the boar hunt and Damen felt much more at ease. He sighed in relief and relaxation; these woods did not harbor good memories for him either, but…this was all right.

“What are you sighing about?” Laurent reined in his horse so that he was abreast of Damen.

Damen smiled at him. “So beautiful.”

“It is nothing compared to the forests in Isthima.” Laurent snorted, dismissive of the fact that Damen did not clarify what exactly was beautiful. “Not going to that island is going to be one of my greatest regrets of this year.”

“Maybe someday you could build your own palace there.” Damen suggested. “Escape from the rigors of being Auguste’s strategist, head librarian, scholar and translator.” Not to mention that he would a short boat ride from Ios. The idea of having Laurent so close to him at all times caused Damen’s heart to palpitate.

Laurent looked at him intensely. “Paradise. I’d never leave. I’d need more than one crate of books though.”

Damen threw back his head to laugh aloud. “You’ll never let me forget that slight will you?” Laurent looked extremely pleased with himself, indicating that no, he would not. “Are three libraries not enough to satisfy your voracious reading appetite?”

Maybe it was a shaft of light from the trees, but for a moment Laurent looked absolutely crestfallen. “I…I only have my study and the library in Ios at the moment.” He held up one hand to silence Damen’s question. “I know what you’re about to ask. Give me…a moment…” Damen sat in silence, as per Laurent’s request, and waited. Boldfaced honesty was not in his nature so these things took patience. “I…have not set foot in the library here since…since my…fifteenth year…”

Damen felt a flash of white-hot anger as he remembered Laurent’s plea for help that day. “Not _ever_? Not since I…helped you?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” There was something painfully cruel about it that Damen wanted to blame someone for. That one of the very few things Laurent loved had been ruined for him…

“No one goes in there, aside from me. That’s why I liked it so much. But it has also proven to be negative because…no one has ever really helped me clean up inside. After that day I put all the books back and tried to right what had been knocked over, but I could not get the stains out of the floor and…I find I am never at ease there when I am alone.” Laurent was almost trancelike as he continued to speak. “Childishly, I even brought a sword with me…but I was always afraid to turn the corners. Afraid of…” He clutched the front of his shirt as if to protect it from being slashed, “…being _exposed_.”

He jerked violently as Damen placed one of his warm hands over his fists.

Though he was furious, Damen smiled gently, watching as Laurent was snapped out of his sorrowful haze. “A library it is then. You can have a large main one and then a smaller one off of your own quarters. Although it will be difficult to steal the books from Vere…”

Laurent smiled and released his shirt so that he could clasp Damen’s hand. “You are a scoundrel and a shameless flirt; I’m sure you’ll come up with something…” To have Laurent so close to him, Damen felt he would cheerfully steal the very dust from the library of Arles.

 

Damen had a plan for the first step of serious courtship.

Usually for noblemen and gentry, small gifts would suffice. For Damen, it usually involved fresh bouquets delivered secretly overnight so that it was the first thing his lover saw in the morning or a tender, expensive delicacy served with lunch. Then it escalated to an outfit, expected to be worn to the next large dinner banquet or courtly event; and if an extra step was needed, Damen commissioned a small piece of jewelry to show the seriousness of his intent.

But all these rules might as well burn in the presence of Laurent.

He was a prince himself and knew no lack of finery in the Veretian court. Indeed riches were poured over every surface of his home. He had no love or hatred of flowers, ate every night at lavish feasts, had an entire wardrobe and refused to wear jewelry. There was nothing materialistic Damen could provide that Laurent could not get for himself.

But Damen had been listening intently for the past month he had been in Arles, and before the hunt that was to take place in two weeks, he wanted to give Laurent a gift. And he needed Auguste’s help to do so.

He approached his friend early in the morning, when Auguste’s mood was best.

Truly a sunlit, golden star, Auguste preferred the morning when his energy was high and he had yet to experience a full day of his court’s frivolities. Laurent had also awoken early but had left the two older princes alone as he went to fetch some materials from his study before breakfast. Damen practically pounced on Auguste as soon as Laurent had shut the door behind him.

“Auguste, I have a request.”

Auguste raised one eyebrow in a mix of interest, amusement and distrust. He was a little wary of Damen now that he knew his younger brother was being courted. “Go on…”

Damen took a deep breath and outlined his plan, delighting as Auguste’s expression became more and more incredulous with each passing word. By the end of his request, Auguste’s mouth was half-open in shock. “You are a madman.” He exclaimed.

“Will you help me?” Damen insisted.

“You are not even sure if he returns your affections!” Auguste was so flabbergasted he had begun to laugh. “You will have to spend an _obscene_ amount of money! You will risk this gold on a gamble.”

Damen was unperturbed. “It is mine to gamble with. Heaven knows I have done more foolish things. But…Auguste will you help me? I am unsure of where to go and I know your help will be an asset to me. Please.”

His eyes must have been very shiny with sincerity, for Auguste pinched the bridge of his nose, laughing in disbelief. “God save me…I am surrounded by fools. Fine! Fine… I am reasonably sure Laurent will appreciate the gift, you crafty bastard. And if you want to pour Akielon gold into the Veretian economy, who am I to try and stop you? I’ll help you.”

Damen embraced him. “I’m glad I could appeal to your sensibilities.”

Auguste seemed disgruntled but his eyes flashed with merriment as he attempted to shove Damen away. Damen squeezed him tighter in response and the two of them were practically in a scuffle by the time Laurent returned, with Auguste’s elbow firmly planted against Damen’s jaw and Damen’s arms wrapped around Auguste’s neck like twin pythons.

“Am I…interrupting something?”

“Damianos was just--- _oof_ \---fucking being a--- _goddamn you_ \---fool!”

“Well, what is new?” Laurent sighed as Auguste wriggled out of Damen’s grasp, kneeing him solidly in the gut. Laurent lightly ignored them, sipping a cup of lemon tea as he read the documents before him. “How is he being foolish now?”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here!” Damen protested, ruffling Laurent’s hair and grinning apologetically as a bit of tea sloshed onto his papers. “And it’s a secret.”

“I’m burning with curiosity.” Laurent sounded as flat and uninterested as possible as he patted his papers dry. Damen smiled down at him as he began to work and ached to massage his shoulders and neck and scalp…but it might make Auguste uncomfortable, so he just patted Laurent’s head instead.

“We’ll go in four days. Early in the morning, so be prepared.” Auguste stated as he sat next to his brother. And if Laurent _was_ curious about what they were talking about, he didn’t let it show on his face.

Laurent did not question Damen once the entire rest of the week, though sometimes when Auguste and Damen discussed their plans in hushed tones, there was some unreadable expression on his face. And his expression was cool and disinterested in the early gray dawn as he saw his brother and Damen off on their trip. His blue eyes were shiny and wide with sleep and he stepped forward, sweet with exhaustion to hug his brother goodbye. In his sweetness, he also came forward to embrace Damen as well. Damen longed to embrace him fiercely, but he gripped Laurent gently, running his hands down that lean, slender back.

“We will be back by the next evening, I swear to you.”

“If you wake me so early again, I’d rather you didn’t return.” _Liar_.

Damen, unable to help himself, brushed his lips against the softest tufts of blond hair, feeling the warm silky skin of Laurent’s left ear. “You need not be fearful of us leaving. We will be back by tomorrow.”

When he pulled away, Laurent, despite his flippant comment, looked up in hopeful amazement, his eyes huge and cheeks lightly flushed. Damen cupped his face and tilted his head up.

For a moment he wanted to destroy his careful planning and kiss Laurent’s half-open mouth, let his feelings gush out in one passionate act.

But he controlled himself. He did not want to force himself on anyone, ever; much less this precious prince who had been forced who knew how many times before. So the brotherly kiss was placed on Laurent’s forehead instead and Auguste probably breathed a sigh of relief. He did not want to challenge Damen for his brother’s honor.

The two of them, joined by Pallas and Lazar, mounted their horses and galloped off, leaving Laurent behind…

…And they did not return until late the next night.

Dinner was well underway by the time the four of them entered, tanned and exhausted, but in very good humor. Laurent perked up when he saw his brother and Damen enter the dining hall and the tension visibly left his body. Auguste and Damen both sat next to him, shielding him from having to sit next to his uncle yet again.

“Damianos! Auguste, my son!” Aleron was happy to have them back. “Where have the two of you gone? Sneaking off like thieves in the night…I hope you’ve not done anything wicked?”

“We’ve gone to be married.” Damen joked.

Auguste punched him hard over Laurent’s head and then attempted to salvage the conversation. “Don’t listen to him, father; Damianos likes to make me uncomfortable. God, I am _famished_. Will you pass me something, anything?” As he loaded his plate, he began to charmingly engage his father. “Damianos wished for a scenic ride and we ended up quite a ways away.”

It was cunningly done.

With everyone focused on Auguste’s humor and storytelling skill, the attention was off Damen and he could speak with Laurent unmolested. He leaned close to the young man until their shoulders were nearly touching and Laurent could hear his murmurs.

“Laurent.”

Laurent’s eyes flicked over to him for only a brief second before going back to his glass of water. “You smell like a horse.”

He jumped a bit as Damen took one of his hands, raising it so that the corner of Damen’s lips were pressed against the skin of Laurent’s wrist. He smiled in excitement, “Laurent,” his voice must have given him away, because Laurent’s interest was piqued, “before everyone finishes dinner…may I have a few moments of your time? I have something to show you.”

He could feel Laurent’s pulse through his skin and it began to gallop. His face remained amazingly calm. “Alright…let me know when you think the time is prudent…”

Damen glowed with eagerness, letting Laurent’s hand slide through his fingers so that he could caress the entire length of his left hand.

Auguste was nearly invaluable to him at this point. Damen could not focus on anything but Laurent and, for all his bluster and outward unwillingness, Auguste was actually not all that opposed to Damen courting Laurent. In fact, he was of the mind that the two of them might actually make each other very happy; Laurent---in his mind---needed to be loved, protected, and challenged and Damen was skillful at all three of those pursuits.

So Auguste put to use all of his skills as Vere’s golden Crown Prince and regaled his entire court with humorous stories from their journey until he looked over and found his brother and best friend gone.

The empty marble halls of the Veretian palace were exotic at this time of evening.

The sun was almost set, so most of the arches and corridors were bathed in the velvety blue-black of the encroaching night, but there were still small slices of pink and orange and gold remnants from the last sliver of sun. Servants had lit the torches in their sconces and the shadows swayed from the orange-scented summer breeze.

Although it was Laurent who had helped them escape the dining hall---smoothly as if he had been doing it his entire life---Damen, exhilarated by the clandestine feeling of it all, took Laurent’s slim white hand in his and dragged him down the darkened hall. He was in such an elated mood that Laurent also began to laugh softly as they ran, the two of them stifling their giggles as they hid behind columns to avoid any errant servants.

Damen’s heart was pounding; Laurent’s skin was practically glowing in contrast to his surroundings and he was pressed tight, so tight, against Damen’s chest. When they were pressed so close, Laurent’s cool breath came out in gasps against the length of Damen’s throat and Damen curled his body around Laurent, his face buried in that beautiful golden hair.

Then, when the interloper was gone, the two princes were off again, giddy as children.

“Damianos,” Laurent whispered between his bouts of soft, astonished laughter, “where are you taking me?”

Damen felt tipsy even though he had taken no wine that evening. “It’s a secret. It’s a surprise.”

“Make up your mind.” Laurent hissed through his laughter.

When the two of them had picked their way to one of the exits closest to the training grounds, Damen could see his goal in sight and halted Laurent before he could go any further. He placed both palms on Laurent’s chest and felt the thundering pulse beneath the layers of fabric.

“I…have something for you but…”

“It’s a secret surprise?” Laurent added unhelpfully and Damen could not help but laugh.

“Exactly, you cheeky brat. So I need you to trust me.” Laurent raised one eyebrow in response as Damen unfurled a short length of white cloth. ”I’ll not let you fall. I won’t lead you anywhere off the grounds of the palace. But I want to show you at the last moment. Please…”

Laurent idled, obviously uncomfortable. He hated the idea of being vulnerable, of his sight being blocked. It was warring with what Damen knew was Laurent’s absolute faith in him. He just had to be patient…

“Fine…” Laurent whispered after a long moment of debate. Biting his bottom lip, he closed his eyes so that Damen could tie the cloth over his eyes.

Damen inhaled sharply at the sight. There was something both beautiful and terrible about a blindfolded Laurent. It was not the same without his intelligent and perceptive blue eyes, but his features were softened, made more innocent with it on. Damen was again filled with the urge to taste those fine, helpless lips before him, but he had great self-control and pushed the feeling aside.

Instead he took both of Laurent’s hands in his own and slowly, painstakingly walked backwards, leading Laurent toward his unknown gift. He squeezed Laurent’s hands encouragingly as he felt those white fingertips tremble.

“A little further now…”

There was the crunch of hay underfoot and Laurent jerked to a halt.

“Are we…?”

“No guessing!” Damen insisted and squeezed again when Laurent jumped at his brusque tone. He softened. “Almost there.”

Laurent shuddered as Damen stopped and dropped his hands, leaving him alone in the darkness. “D-Damen?” He jumped as Damen touched him lightly on the shoulders, his mouth right by a flushed pink ear.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m right behind you. Let me just…untie the blindfold.”

He felt the tension wracking Laurent’s lean body as he tugged expertly at the knot. And as soon as the cloth slithered down around his slim neck, the tightness in his frame disappeared as easily as a sigh. Damen watched as those long golden lashes rose over blue and breathed in with excitement.

Laurent blinked a few times to get his bearings.

Damen watched as he took it all in: the familiar exposed beams, the wide doors, the stone floors covered in fresh golden hay. He probably recognized the smell now of hay and oats, leather and fresh water, sweat and faint traces of manure. Laurent knew he was in his very own stables. And then, when he _really_ looked, really saw what was in front of him, his wide eyes became enormous.

“ _Oh_...” He whispered, clutching his fingers against his lips.

When Damen had first met Auguste five years ago on the hills of Marlas, Auguste had sat astride one of the most gorgeous horses Damen had ever seen. It had been small-boned and leaner than most other stallions, but it looked to be a horse made of spun gold.

The mare standing in Laurent’s personal paddock was of the same breed, but its’ color was the same pale, silken gold of Laurent’s hair, complete with the iciest of blue eyes.

It was an animal beyond compare.

Laurent was frozen at the sight of it. It was obviously the most valuable horse in all the stables of Arles, a horse fit for a prince, and he was unsure of what it all meant.

“What…is going on…?”

Damen smiled widely moving closer so that his front was pressed against Laurent’s back. He stretched out his arms so that he could take Laurent’s hands in his. They were so closely melded, it was as if they were the same person and Damen gently pushed Laurent forward so that he could lay his hands on the horses’ gorgeous coat.

Laurent’s sigh came out in a disbelieving laugh. “I…half expected…it to be made of gold. Not a horse at all…but a statue…”

Damen cared nothing at all for the horse but was instead focused on Laurent’s slender white fingers pressed firmly underneath his hands, moving along with his stroking motions. His question was a caress, “Do you like it?”

The small smile that appeared on Laurent’s face was real and tinged deep with emotion. “I have…Auguste had one like her…it is a creature beyond…anything I’ve ever seen.” Damen moved his hands to the fine golden muzzle, and the horse was patient enough to be stroked. “This is where you went with Auguste…You bought her?”

He had no idea.

There was only one woman in the four kingdoms who reared such horses and so Damen had begged Auguste to take him deep into the foothills of Vere. Within the borders of Varenne there had been a tiny, unobtrusive farm where Auguste had secretly received his horse as a gift so many years before. They had been greeted by the tough old woman and, upon expressing their desire and seeing the only two available horses of such color, she and Damen had spent most of the afternoon and early evening drinking wine and haggling on a price.

The tough old bitch had extracted a small fortune from him, but Damen did not care for gold unless it was in the strands of the beloved head before him.

“I did.” Damen smiled, admiring his purchase. “I am giving her to you.”

Laurent’s head whipped around in astonishment and Damen was so close to him now that only mere inches kept their lips apart. But Laurent did not seem to notice their unusually close proximity he was so shocked. “Damianos! You cannot give me this horse!”

“Mmmm…I’m the Crown Prince of Akielos. It is a rarity when people tell me I cannot do something. But I’ll humor you; go ahead and outline your argument.”

Laurent was so caught off-guard he was practically sputtering. “T-this is madness! It is an incredibly valuable animal! You traveled, god knows how long,” Damen nodded, “and you must have paid an exorbitant amount! I should know; I have seen wild children get the better of you in a horse bargain…You have done so much to obtain this horse and you are just giving it away?”

“It is mine to give. And I’m gifting it to you.”

Laurent’s eyes were wide and guileless as he desperately studied Damen’s face. He was looking for the lie there. “But… _why_?”

Any number of unspoken responses jumped to Damen’s mind: _Because you deserve a mount as beautiful as you. Because you are good and wise and fair and no one has ever rewarded you for it. Because it delights me to give you any pleasure. Because I love you desperately._

Instead, he kissed the crown of Laurent’s head and wrapped his dark fingers around Laurent’s hands. “I am giving this to you because it is your right as the Prince of Vere. Your joy at accepting this gift would be worth more to me than any gold I parted with upon her purchase.” Laurent still looked uneasy at the thought, so Damen pushed. “Laurent, I will never ride her. She is meant for you and none other. Please…accept my gift. A late present for your seventeenth birthday.”

Laurent gazed at the horse with obvious desire. Damen knew that young, thirteen year-old Laurent had coveted Auguste’s horse more than anything in his entire life. “You…don’t want anything in return?”

He still clung to the thought that Damen was lying; in Vere no one gave such a gift without expecting some reciprocity. Damen understood and smiled in response.

“No…No, Little Scholar. You need not give me anything.”

But Laurent did give him something. For as he finally, _finally_ accepted that the beautiful golden horse was indeed his, and that he had gotten something he had always wanted deep in his heart, Laurent’s cheeks flushed pink and he smiled in the greatest delight Damen had ever seen on his pretty face. His shining eyes crinkled with joy and his smile was wide with emotion; it cut Damen right to his core and made his heart pulse painfully.

Laurent embraced Damen quickly and then was deaf to the world as he ran his hands over his gilded horse, over and over chanting. “Damianos, thank you…”


	16. Year 18 (Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are really picking up now! I'm so glad you guys are liking Pallas/Lazar on the side because this chapter really panders to them and I SWEAR it has a purpose for the future ;) Pallas is a cinnamon roll, too precious, too sweet and I love him so.  
> If this chapter seems like filler or plot-building, it's for a good cause! Year 18 is 5 parts long, and the next two are...you'll love them just trust me! And enjoy ;)

** Vere: Year 18 (Part 3) **

If no one noticed Damen’s preference for Laurent in the past, they certainly noticed Laurent’s new horse, even though he did not flaunt it. It was spoken of with envy in most conversations afterwards, though no one could deny that the horse suited Laurent as if they had been designed for each other. Although Laurent refused to name who had given him the horse, suspicions began to arise…

But luckily for Damen, Auguste covered him and claimed responsibility, refused to name the farm where the mare had been purchased, and the matter was settled as far as most of the Veretian men were concerned. Although it seemed a waste of so fine a horse on such a bookish young man.

However, Laurent knew the true buyer of his horse, and every day, without fail, when he took her to ride on the edges of the great forest he politely asked Damen to join him.

Damen never refused these requests and was thrilled with the hours spent riding next to the one he adored. They talked or rode in silence, but each moment spent together further reaffirmed the fact that Damen could find pleasure in no other company.

He watched Laurent stealthily from where he was patting his horse’s mane under the dappled sunlight. The two of them had stopped by a stream to allow their horses to drink. They were discussing the upcoming stag hunt that everyone in Arles was so excited about.

“Are you taken to betting as well?” Laurent inquired politely, looking over his shoulder in a way that positively devastated Damen. “As I recall, the last time you staked your gold, it ended in gain.”

Damen smiled. “I’m glad I can count on you to never forget anything. And yes, I have already made my wagers.”

“Will you let me hedge my bets, or am I to traverse this gambling ring on my own?”

“You’re too smart to gamble.” Damen responded easily and was rewarded by a soft bubble of laughter from Laurent. “So no, I won’t share my secrets with you.” There were a few moments of comfortable silence before Damen hazarded a new topic of conversation. “I noticed Councilor Guion’s sons have arrived. How timely.”

Laurent covered his mouth to hide his smile. “I wondered why Auguste looked so haggard over breakfast.”

“Aimeric is here too.” Damen tried to mention it casually, but he saw Laurent stiffen.

“Ah. Erm…yes. I saw him and he expressed his gratitude for our attentions in Aquitart.” Damen had the distinct feeling that Laurent was not telling him the entire story, seeing as he averted his gaze back to his horse.

“Does he still cry if you pull his hair and poke his cheek?”

“I didn’t think to try.” Laurent responded tartly.

Damen moved so that he was standing directly behind Laurent. He had to move in slow steps so as not to startle Laurent; he placed his hands, palms flat on Laurent’s shoulder blades and then slid them up. Laurent rolled his head already in expectation as Damen began to squeeze the tension out of his shoulders.

“Aimeric will hunt with us?”

“Yes, but little good it will do him as I intend to kill the stag. I think his father is hoping you’ll take a shine to him.” Laurent’s voice was tinged with disgust. “Marry that shy country bumpkin off to an Akielon prince? Councilor Guion would shit in his breeches for such an advantageous match.” He could not suppress a whimper as Damen expertly kneaded his back. “The ambitious leech…”

Damen was feeling bold. Instead of kissing the top of Laurent’s head, he aimed for the side and kissed a burning hot ear.

Laurent froze and Damen released him immediately.

“I wouldn’t worry about Guion overstepping his bounds.” He responded, trying his best to sound casual despite the fact that his lips were tingling. “My affections are not so easily swayed at the moment.”

The two of them mounted their horses in preparation to return.

“I had noticed.” Laurent responded to Damen’s comment. “As have most of the sluttish men in my court. Are you sure you are in complete working order?” Looking at Laurent, Damen felt that he had never been more willing.

Only an aggravated Auguste had been regaled with Damen’s concern over his increase of lewd dreams. His normally friendly expression had darkened to boldfaced annoyance as Damen described a particularly lucid dream involving Laurent and a haystack. Almost nightly Damen had visions of loving Laurent in every position and possibly every location they had ever been together.

“You brothers are relentless.”

Laurent smiled for the first few minutes of their ride back but it began to fade after a few moments of thoughtful silence. Damen knew he had something to say but was struggling to find the right words and the right time. Patience was absolutely key in this moment…

Laurent reined his horse to a halt very suddenly and Damen circled his own around so that he was facing Laurent. However, he did not urge his stallion forward to close their distance, instead remaining a respectful distance to let Laurent compose his thoughts. Laurent was looking up through the canopy of trees, exposing the full length of his white neck.

“I…” He sounded as though he was choking on the words. “I…could not save Aimeric, you know. I was told…”

Damen had a feeling like a cold stone sinking to the pit of his stomach, but he maintained his calm composure. His horse pranced forward a few paces, but he pulled him back. “Laurent…”

Laurent met his gaze. “I know. I was just a child. I had no power and I tried my best. But I cannot forgive Councilor Guion, for I know he allowed it to improve his standing at court. And I’ll _never_ forgive my uncle for what he has done to Aimeric and any other boys and…m-me. Despite what he told me…I deserved nothing of that nature.”

“You need not forgive him.” Damen assured him softly. “Such a thing should never be forgiven.”

“Auguste told me, he promised me, after…after Govart,” Laurent shuddered at the very name, “that the moment he was king, he would put my uncle on trial and exile him to a battlement off the coast of Vere. I personally will ride through all our houses in Vere, gather up every boy he has ever touched and we will come and bring his crimes to the council. I will testify and laugh as he is led away in chains. For am no longer a child…and I am no longer afraid of him.” Laurent raised his chin and his eyes flashed in defiance.

Damen felt for a moment that he could not breathe. He was drowning in gold.

The gold of the horse he had bought, the gold of Laurent’s hair, the color of his white skin under the sun, and the chips of sunlight illuminating the very dust on the road. Laurent looked ethereal, a godling, a star prince descended to earth in a glow of gold, with motes of stardust swirling around him.

It was the culmination of every gut feeling he had ever had about Laurent: that he was a more powerful force than his father and uncle and noblemen would ever realize. And Laurent had no fear of them now. It was breathtaking.

Damen spurred his horse softly so that he was leg to leg with Laurent, towering over him on his larger horse. He put one of his hands on Laurent’s passion-enflamed cheek; Damen swore Laurent leaned into his palm.

He had so many things he wanted to say.

“When that day comes,” he responded with all the warmth in his body, “I will stand by your side, Little Scholar, Snow Prince.”

 

So unlike the morning of the boar hunt, the morning of the stag hunt dawned as clear and bright as any hunter could ever hope for. The sky was cloudless and blue and there was a slight warm breeze, the serenity of it all completely at odds with the roiling chaos inside the palace.

Laurent was already waiting outside for Auguste and Damen, remarkably calm in the roiling courtyard. He was perched on one of the large slabs of carved marble at the bottom of the staircase, his chin resting on his raised left knee, both hands stroking the golden mane of his horse. He smiled at the sight of Damen and his brother.

Auguste lovingly patted his brother’s head. “Well met Laurent. Have you chosen your weapon today?”

He glowed under his brother’s attention. “Yes.”

Most, including Laurent and Auguste, used bows and arrows to hunt stag, but Damen and his entourage preferred their spears. Amidst the weapon selection, the men raised an approving shout at the sight of the three princes.

“The moment we ride, all bets are finished!” Auguste shouted in response, and many men began to hastily reach for their purses.

“I should hate to think that we are fostering a spendthrift court.” Laurent remarked in response to his brother’s announcement. “And no, before you ask, I did not bet on anyone.”

Damen ruffled Laurent’s hair but then quickly transitioned into rubbing his neck. “I would have thought you impertinent enough to bet on yourself.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” Auguste snorted at Laurent’s retort. “Then you must be the most self-confident man in four kingdoms.”

Damen shrugged, releasing Laurent’s neck. “That’s because I win.”

Both Princes of Vere groaned at his outright arrogance. However their banter had to be cut short so that they could outfit themselves for the ride. Spears were easier to handle, so Damen watched the throng as soon as his bundle was strapped to his saddle. Jord, in all of his calm patience, was helping the younger lads with their quivers, including peachy Aimeric who was flushed red to his roots. Orlant was one of the few Veretians who had chosen spears and was busy comparing craftsmanship (and, more crudely, length) with Lydos and Aktis. Pallas was also latching his materials onto his mount, despite the fact that Lazar was pressed up tight against his back, as though he would fuck Pallas through his clothes.

It reminded Damen…

He went over to where Auguste was busy with preparations and discussed the matter with him in a low voice, while Laurent watched them with suspicion. He was not used to being left out of secret plans. Auguste nodded thoughtfully and the two of them outlined their decision until King Aleron came out to wish the party a happy hunting.

Laurent dropped his narrow expression into a mask of charming good humor as he, Damen, and Auguste ascended the stairs for the king’s blessing. The horn was sounded and the three princes rode at the forefront of the party, excited hounds swirling beside their horses in a yapping sea of dotted brown and white.

Thanks to Auguste’s improved mood, the hunters were bubbly with excitement, and Lydos and Aktis even began to sing traditional Akielon hunting songs.

The mood continued on in this vein until one of the hounds bayed low and the sound rippled backward. The horses ears pricked up and the singing ceased abruptly as the sound of crashing undergrowth gave way to the muscular red haunches of a stag. There was moment of frozen shock, when not even the hounds moved.

It was Laurent who broke the stillness.

“He’s mine!” Laurent shouted urgently, spurring his horse on in a swift golden blur. The sight was enough to break the spell on the others and there was a tremendous shout from the other hunters, including Damen, as they raced to join Laurent in his pursuit. Howling wildly, the dogs streamed into the forest, hot on the trail.

“Flank the beast!” He heard Jord call, but Damen was already racing at Laurent’s heels.

Damen’s coal black charger was more than a match for any other horse, and the added excitement might as well have given him wings on his hooves. Damen had caught up to Laurent before the dogs could even draw breath to howl again.

Laurent had already drawn his bow and was in the process of notching an arrow.

He caught sight of Damen and clicked his tongue in annoyance before pulling the bowstring taut. The feathers ruffled his fine cheeks as he judged his shot; it was one thing to be a fine marksman in a still, hushed field where the target did not move, but another thing entirely to hit a fleeing beast in dense forest whilst astride a galloping horse.

“You’ll not throw?” Laurent remarked, trying his best to sound cool and focused.

Damen ignored his bundle of spears to watch Laurent’s progress. “I thought I might let you have the first shot. It seems only sporting, since one of my shots are worth three of yours.”

Laurent beautifully hid his annoyance and consuming desire to win by letting loose his arrow.

Damen listened to it whistle and heard it hit something solid, but only time would tell if the arrow was lodged in the stag’s red hide or if it had buried it’s tip into a tree. Even if it had hit, it was not a killing blow, because the hounds continued to bellow and the stag was still running.

Laurent swore quietly, his cheeks flushing, but he drew another arrow from his quiver and prepared to fire again. It was so mesmerizing, Damen did not even reach for his own weapons. He was content to watch.

Other men and women of court had managed to catch up to them by this point and now arrows and the occasional spear were sailing wildly through the forest, each person claiming the next shot. Though he was highly concentrated, Laurent beamed with the excitement of it all.

Suddenly the trees began to clear and the hounds skidded to a halt…or at least they tried to. The clearing gave way to a streambed, high and rushing with water. The stag had cleared it in one powerful jump, but the dogs could not give chase without being swept downstream, reemerging in the pack cowed and soaked. Most of the hunters, including Damen, had pulled up short as well, but one did not.

Laurent did not falter for a single moment, he did not twitch in second thought, but urged his horse on at the same speed. Lean as she was, his horse sailed across the river in a golden arc, and barely landed on the opposite bank.

He paused only a moment to smooth the hair out of his face and smile, knowing that everyone was staring at him in boldfaced shock, before he urged his horse on after the stag.

Damen had never felt such white-hot desire before.

He laughed to cover up his heated feelings, “Well…I suppose we’d best follow him, hadn’t we?”

When no one seemed to want to try first for fear of their horse landing badly in the rushing water, Damen decided to take the initiative and circled his horse back a few lengths. His stallion was high-spirited and fearless, so it would gladly try to jump anything that stood still for more than five seconds; even now it pawed the ground with barely restrained excitement. Damen spurred it into a full sprint and it charged toward their obstacle.

Laurent’s horse was truly an exceptional animal. Damen’s horse made the jump, but only barely, its’ hooves sliding precariously in the soft mud of the opposite bank. However, it managed to clamber up in another short jump, and with a cheer from his amazed companions, Damen rode away into the thicket.

Arousal was still bubbling in the pit of his stomach; he loved nothing more than a confident, competitive, and untouchable rival in sports. He had to fight to get the blood out of his dick and back to his brain.

There were more shouts and the sound of running horses behind him, so Damen assumed he would be joined shortly. He had to make the most of his head start.

Damen listened carefully over the powerful thudding of his horse’s strides and watched the branches and leaves for signs of a chase. It seemed that the stag had left more of a path than Laurent had.

He followed the hollowed tunnel of leaves and branches until he saw flashes of gold amidst the greenery.

There was a great crash from up ahead and Damen felt a strong pang of fear as he rode on through the final clump of trees, reining his horse to a halt in the clearing. The heat came rushing back in one painful wave.

Laurent had dismounted his horse, bow still in hand, as he walked toward the now-lifeless red-brown stag. Perhaps adrenaline was still racing through his veins, because he seemed not to notice that Damen had joined him and his face was suffused with barefaced emotion. Tiny beads of sweat ran down his normally clean temple, his cheeks were flushed with exercise and excitement, and his mouth was hanging in an open gasping smile.

He looked so remarkably like a man who had been fucked to the edge of ecstasy that it arrested Damen on the spot.

The stag itself, for all the projectiles fired at its’ massive haunches, only had sustained two wounds during the escape. One arrow stuck out from a spot just above the hindquarters while the killing shot was lodged squarely below the base of the stag’s skull, so it looked as though it was still racing away, head thrown back even in death.

Both of the arrows had the same unique golden tipped fletch. So there was no question.

It was Laurent who had killed the stag.

When he finally realized Damen had joined, Laurent looked at his with shining blue eyes, his smile wider still. “Damianos…I did it! On my first hunt…I _did_ it!”

Damen strode forward with the intent to embrace him, but he did not have the chance as he had only made it halfway across the clearing when Auguste, Jord, Nikandros and a number of others burst through the surrounding forest.

“Hold!” Jord shouted, loud enough so that people probably heard him back in the castle. For all the hunters in the wood, it would stay their weapons so that they did not fire and hurt anyone.

Aside from Auguste, everyone else looked utterly astonished.

They took in the enormous dead stag, Laurent’s arrows, and the proud tilt of Laurent’s chin. Auguste looked like he might die of being so proud of his younger brother. Laurent jumped a little as the yowling hounds crashed through and surrounded the corpse, shattering everyone’s shock.

Damen closed the final distance between them and quickly embraced Laurent with a clap on the back, a formal, sportsmanlike gesture.

“The prince has done it!” He used Laurent’s very words. “He’s succeeded on his first hunt!”

Damianos’ wide smile and triumphant exclamation was enough that all the other hunters also began to raise cheer. Their love of the hunt, coupled with the excitement that one of their own had taken the prize, caused them to swarm around Laurent. His face blushed deeper and deeper pink as half of his court, the ones who usually scorned him, slapped him on the shoulders and patted his back in a show of solidarity.

And when all the other hunters made it to the clearing and began singing his praises, his fine shooting, his skill…when Damen, Auguste, Jord and Lazar hoisted him into the air and the others began to cheer, Laurent covered his face with his hands to hide his blush and the fact that he was so proud and happy he might have ended up crying.

 

It was Laurent’s night of glory.

No influence his uncle held over the court, none of his father’s favoritism, none of the pet’s wild jealousy or the noblemen’s prior dislike of him could eclipse the fact that he was the hunting victor.

King Aleron, delighted that his second bookish son had finally excelled at an activity he could understand, had publicly proclaimed his victory before the dinner commenced. He embraced Laurent with true feeling, as if welcoming home a prodigal son.

Laurent was seated at the royal table, flanked by Damen and Auguste in the place of honor. He appeared unusually humble, his face smooth and smiling, but Damen noticed the bright redness of his ears as people steadily approached him throughout the night to offer congratulations. Since he had killed the beast, servants brought him the choicest cuts of meat from the roasted stag and his wine glass was always filled by someone coming forward with congratulations and a drink to his honor.

Damen had never seen Laurent so much as sniff the vapors of alcohol, so his surprise was great when Laurent raised his goblet to the cheers of the entire court and downed it in one deep gulp. Apparently he liked the approval because the first glass was nursed by a second and then a third.

Damen sipped his own drink and glanced to Auguste noticing that he was lightly switching his full glass to an empty one when no one was watching; time had taught them both to be cautious…

Instead, with both of them beaming, Auguste and Damen watched Laurent glow in the limelight.

People were getting pleasantly drunk to the music that was playing and flirtations were abound as pets tried to make the hunters feel better about losing their gambled gold. Even Aimeric conceded to flirt, very shyly, with Jord who then looked thoroughly addle-pated through the rest of the evening.

However, when there was a lull in activity (and a heavily flushed Laurent was on his fourth glass of wine) Lazar approached Auguste and there was a slight hush amongst the soldiers.

“Lazar!” Auguste hailed him with friendliness and a hint of wickedness. “Do you have something you wish to discuss with me?”

There was enough anticipation in the air that even the drunks fell quiet.

Lazar bowed quickly before clearing the messy brown hair from his eyes and he looked determined, despite the flush on his cheeks. When he spoke it was with wringing of hands, but a clear, strong voice. “Your Majesty, I have spoken with you before the hunt on a matter…most _dear_ to my heart. And with your permission, I would…I would like to…”

Auguste and Damen smiled briefly at one another, inciting the suspicious curiosity of Laurent. However, he seemed too drunk to puzzle things out and so he sat with a furrowed brow.

Auguste waved his hand in a motion to continue. “You may begin with my blessing.”

With a smile of utter delight, Lazar spun on his heel to face his curious audience, but he only had eyes for one person in the crowd. Without speaking, he stretched out his hand in invitation and Pallas stood without missing a beat, though he seemed to share in Laurent’s confusion. Several hoots and whistles of approval followed him to where he grasped his lover’s outstretched hand.

When he had woven his fingers through Pallas’, Lazar smiled at him before continuing. “Your Majesty, my prince…since I was fifteen, I have served you faithfully and I swore an oath to put you above all others. But…I find now…I cannot keep my oath.”

The Akielons drew a swift breath and Pallas looked panicked; to declare such a thing in Akielos would be considered treasonous.

But Lazar was not deterred. Instead, he gave Pallas’ hand a reassuring squeeze and continued. “It has been an honor to serve you, but my honor has cost me dear in that…” He glanced at the one he loved with indescribable tenderness. “For eight months of the year I am separated from the man I love more than myself.”

Cheers and whistles accompanied this pronouncement, only made worse by Pallas turning crimson.

“With your permission and…the permission of Prince Damianos…I humbly request to be relieved of duty as a soldier of Vere so that I may join my husband as a soldier of Akielos.”

Chaos erupted in the dining hall.

“ _Husband?!_ ” Pallas gasped; apparently he had not been expecting a proposal at this time. Men and women cheered in solidarity, as if for one moment they expected Auguste to deliberate. Auguste was nearly on the verge of delighted laughter as he glanced at Damen. This had been their plan all along.

"Yes," Lazar turned to him with the reckless look of a lover who cared for nothing else, "Yes, god-willing, you'll be my husband."

Damen had noticed the sorrow and desperation with which Pallas and Lazar had clung to each other during their time in Arles. It was clear that they did not want to part, but Pallas’ loyalty to Damen and Akielos did not allow him to bring up his desires. Luckily Lazar was brash and Auguste was understanding in the face of devoted lovers.

Since Lazar was his man, only Auguste could make this decision, and he stood with both hands raised to silence his raucous court.

Lazar’s pulse was visible in the cords of his neck and Pallas’ eyes were swimming at the very idea of having his lover with him at all times. Damen tried to disguise his laughter as Auguste made them squirm.

“Go. And marry with the blessing of Vere.”

Pallas could not help himself and, bless his sensitive soul, tears of utter joy began pouring down his cheeks as Lazar pressed him tight against his Veretian doublet. People were in an uproar all around them, cheering the benevolence of Prince Auguste and the apparent engagement of Pallas and Lazar.

Auguste, Pallas, and Lazar were swarmed after this outburst, and if Auguste had had no intentions of drinking at the beginning of the night, his soldiers now seemed hell-bent on making him the drunkest he had ever been in his life.

Auguste shot a desperate look at Laurent, who was on his fifth glass of wine, and Damen nodded curtly in understanding. He’d not let the Little Scholar out of his sight.


	17. Year 18 (Part 4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DRUNK LAURENT! What a pain in the ass, I love it so much I wish I had another excuse to get him drunk again. I know in the book he had better control over himself, but I wanted to make him a bit wilder for my own reasons.  
> Also, from here on out Auguste has exactly 0 fucks left to give haha! I started him out in the story as so bright and bubbly; now he has become the most long-suffering best friend ever.  
> Enjoy more flirting you lovely readers ;)

** Vere: Year 18 (Part 4) **

Arles had not seen such debauchery in all the years Damen had been there.

Damen wryly thought that Veretian weddings must be the most lascivious events in four kingdoms if this was the standard for their engagement parties, as he watched two female pets kissing deeply to the delight of their drunken audience, while at least three men were receiving blowjobs under the dinner table. People who excused themselves started pulling at laces before they had even left the banquet hall and Damen was forced to watch it all while completely sober.

He jerked out of his daze when Laurent stumbled to his feet, blue eyes cloudy. He looked as though he was trying to formulate something to say, but his mouth was not working.

“I…I need…some…air.”

“I’ll go with you.” Damen immediately volunteered, gripping Laurent’s shoulders to steady him. He was worried about some equally inebriated soul taking advantage of Laurent in his drunken state.

He resisted the urge to just scoop Laurent into his arms and carry him, but he withheld and picked up a jug of water on their slow progress to the closest open-air balcony.

At first Damen thought Laurent was going to be sick as he draped the entire top half of his torso over the marble balustrades, but instead Laurent just gulped in fresh air as if he had been holding his breath. He seemed to go limp with the sensation and Damen rushed to set down the water before he hoisted Laurent up by his waist. Laurent giggled and his head lolled on his neck.

“Ah… _fuck_ …I am…drunk.”

Damen laughed in exasperation and sat on one of the ornate benches so that he could prop Laurent up next to him. “What gave it away? God, Snow Prince, you’re burning up!”

“I’m meltinggggg…” Laurent gurgled, purposefully slumping the floor and laughing at Damen’s expression. Damen yanked him back up onto the bench. “My brain is…I can’t think straight…”

“Drink some water.” Damen responded dryly, pouring him a glass. “You shouldn’t drink so much on your first time.”

“Nmyfirsime.” Laurent mumbled through a mouthful of water.

“Excuse me?”

“I _said_ , it’s…not my first time!” Laurent protested, water dribbling from the corners of his mouth. Damen dabbed them away with his shirtsleeve. Laurent shook his head similar to how a dog would shake water from its’ coat. “Second! Time…I hate…wine.”

Damen was surprised; he had never seen Laurent drink anything stronger than tea before this evening. “Why did you drink then?”

Laurent spun the cup around in his hands. “Uncle…and I drank…together…” Damen pulled him closer so that he was half-holding Laurent. “And tonight…I wanted…to be like…everyone else. I don’t like it…”

“Well, you are the prince. If you hate drinking, you need not do it again.”

Drunkenness had made Laurent as sweet as exhaustion did, and he nudged up to Damen until the two of them were stretched out on the bench together. His warm head was nestled securely in the hollow at Damen’s throat and his limbs were dangling limply. Damen would never dream of taking liberties with someone so drunk, but he did concede to toy with Laurent’s soft hair, gently digging nails into his scalp. He was unusually warm today.

“Feels good…” Laurent slurred.

There was something very peaceful about the two of them being alone outside, just enjoying silence and each other’s company. But drunken Laurent could not stay quiet for very long.

“Lazar is getting…married.” Laurent seemed both amazed and amused as he said it. “Who knew…that when we saw them… _FUCKING_ ,” he giggled as Damen shushed him, “in the gardens at…Ian---no!---Ios.”

“They weren’t fucking.” Damen protested. “They were just…flirting.”

Laurent gave him a long look, though his head wobbled from the wine. “Veretian flirting, I should think. I…didn’t know you could…marry other men…in Akielos. Here…it’s just… _fucking_.” He giggled at the word, which was apparently his favorite when he was drunk. “Nooooo…just cohabitation.”

Vere hated bastards to the point that those who only preferred the same sex could receive special dispensation to live together and adopt orphans, but in Akielos, there were individual ceremonies for two men or two women wishing to marry one another.

“Yes, Snow Prince, in Akielos you can marry another man. In fact, that might very well happen to me.”

Laurent sat up very suddenly, and might have fallen off the bench if Damen had not been quick to steady him. Laurent looked stunned. “You…will marry a man? You’re not serious? Why?”

Damen and Theomedes had discussed the possibility when Damen was still hopelessly infatuated with Auguste. But now, his affections had changed considerably. “Well…what with the order of succession in Akielos, it makes sense for me to marry a man. That way I can have no children or bastards that would threaten Timon’s claim to the throne. I could also marry a prince or a warlord to increase our alliances if there are a lack of princesses.”

There were not many princesses in fact.

Vere and Akielos both had two princes and Patras had three princes and only one princess. Really only Vask had clanswomen with enough pedigree to marry. But Damen wanted to avoid royal drama, and so a man it would be.

Laurent took this all in with a look of heavy concentration through the effects of the alcohol. Damen doubted if he would remember any of this conversation tomorrow. “Do…will you mind?”

“Not at all.” Damen replied smilingly. “Men can be…” he scanned Laurent’s clouded eyes, unkempt hair and flushed face, “quite charming.”

“Y-You…you’ll marry Auguste?”

“Good god no!’ Damen exclaimed so vehemently that Laurent jumped a little. He rubbed Laurent’s back soothingly to calm him back down. “Auguste doesn’t love me and I do not love him; it would be a most uneventful honeymoon. Plus I don’t think Vere would want to give up their Crown Prince to a giant Akielon animal.”

Laurent grinned goofily, before he tipped forward, his flushed head landing solidly on Damen’s chest with a thud. It knocked the wind out of Damen and Laurent shook with wild drunken laughter.

It hurt quite a bit, but Damen could not stay angry in the face of such beautiful good humor. Instead he too started laughing.

When Laurent seemed to get over his fit of giggles, he began to murmur incoherently into Damen’s doublet. “Iwoomi…rioo…not bask. Me…I want it. Ibikeenof…Akielos.” And then he giggled again, leaving Damen to believe these were just the ramblings of a first-time drinker. So he let Laurent talk himself out while he played with Laurent’s fine hair and rubbed circles on his back.

When Laurent’s babbling died down and his entire body began to go limp across Damen’s, Damen figured it was time for Laurent to sleep off his alcohol.

Gently, he nudged Laurent with one hand and when the Snow Prince showed no sign of waking up, Damen began to softly poke his cheek. One blue eye half-opened in response.

“Snowy Laurent, are you ready for bed?” Laurent nodded, looking desperately as though he wanted to curl up and go back to sleep at that very moment. Damen also wanted nothing more, but the bench was extremely uncomfortable to recline on for too long. “Can you walk?”

Laurent pressed his face back against the laces of Damen’s doublet and shook his softly from side to side. Damen sighed.

These situations were not good for his heart.

Since the spoiled scholar on his chest seemed uninterested in anything other than nodding off, Damen was forced to come up with a solution on his own. Gingerly, he looped Laurent’s lean arms around his neck and picked him up easily. He was pleased to note that Laurent did not jerk away or even awaken at his touch. He stood smoothly with Laurent still mostly asleep.

It must have been past 2 AM, but astonishingly the Veretian party was still raging on.

To avoid the chaos and any unsavory rumors that might spoil Laurent’s night of popularity, Damen decided to take a roundabout way to his quarters. However, this presented a new and unique set of obstacles.

The Veretians, uninhibited on the best of days, had been given a specific reason to celebrate and it had kindled their lust. So Damen, carrying their inebriated prince, ran into no less than seven couples rutting shamelessly in the halls. It seemed as if they could not be bothered to wait for the five minutes it took to return to their quarters, so most found a convenient shadowy corner or a curtain to hide behind. It was so bad at one point that Damen actually put one of his hands over Laurent’s closed eyes.

When they finally reached the doors to Damen’s quarters, he gave a sigh of relief and heard a soft giggle in return.

“ _Fucking_ …” Laurent slurred cheerfully without opening his eyes.

Damen rolled his eyes, but could not help but smile. Even drunk, Laurent was messing with him. Skillfully he kicked his door open without breaking it, a useful talent he had learned from carrying lovers in the past.

As soon as he set Laurent on the bed, he worked quickly to light one of the oil lamps, so that if Laurent woke up he would not be unnerved in the dark, and slipped into his pajamas in record time. Auguste was not there as per usual so Damen felt a bit uncomfortable removing Laurent’s outer garments. He was deliberating when Laurent made the choice easier.

Feeling the new comfort of the featherbed against his back, Laurent furrowed his brow and began to tug uselessly on the laces at his wrists, though the wine made his fingers clumsy. Damen simply watched in amazement, as he had never seen Laurent so uncoordinated.

Laurent made a small noise of annoyance before rubbing his hands over his closed eyes. “Damianos…help me.”

Damen could not help but laugh a little at this impassioned plea and set to work immediately unlacing Laurent’s arms. He tried not to be interested as pinkish-white glimpses of skin became visible underneath the loosening laces of Laurent’s collar. Both he and Laurent sighed in relief as the jacket was removed.

Damen stayed awake a little longer in hopes that Auguste might show up, but when he did not, Damen resigned himself to the fact that he would be sleeping alone…with Laurent…in the same bed.

To make his honor unstained, Damen made sure he was positioned as far away from his Little Scholar as possible. His day had been so exhaustingly full and his eyes began to close as soon as he was prone on the bed, deep into a dreamless sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, Damen felt pressure on his chest.

Irritably he scratched his unruly black curls, forcing himself to wake up. Sunlight filled up the room and worked its’ heat into Damen’s flexing muscles, and once he was comfortably warm, he opened his eyes.

His heart seized up.

Laurent, at some point during the night, had latched himself securely onto Damen and rolled over so that his head was resting right over Damen’s heart, his entire body pressed flush against Damen’s front. It was how Damen held a lover in sleep and for a moment he thought he was still dreaming.

Damen’s heart thundered as he could feel Laurent’s pulse through his skin, feel his cool, even breath on his chest, smell his clean skin…

At first he was going to gently shift Laurent off of him, but the moment he touched those fine shoulders, Damen froze and had the unbidden desire to just hold him for a little longer. His dick, unruly at the best of times, began to stiffen against his will and he struggled to calm down. The feel of Laurent, the scent of his skin was too overpowering.

However, someone else helped him with his morning wood predicament.

For, as he began to pull his hands away from Laurent’s shoulders and wiggle away from the bed, the door to his chambers opened and Auguste entered.

He looked like hell; his face was white and his expression was grim, as he held his temples in indication of a throbbing headache. He stopped short at the sight: his younger brother fast asleep in the arms of his panicking best friend. And his blue eyes narrowed in a way that caused Damen to literally wilt.

“I’ll cut off your cock.” He hissed.

 

Auguste did not cut Damen’s cock off. In fact, he could muster nothing more than to plop down at the breakfast table and put his head in his hands. The two of them waited for breakfast and Laurent---who was equally hung-over and washing his face in the bathroom.

Damen regarded his friend over a glass of water. “So the dick-chopping will be postponed I assume?”

Auguste groaned. “I’m just being dramatic. I know you’d never take advantage of anyone, especially someone drunk and asleep. Especially not my brother. I just have a splitting headache and I would gladly kill something to make it stop. Your manhood is safe.” He gratefully accepted Damen’s half-finished glass of water and began to sip.

“Safe in your hands?” Damen joked and Auguste winced as he laughed.

Damen heard the distant sound of splashing from the bathroom and leaned in closer to Auguste so that his friend could hear his hushed tones. “I need your help with something.”

“Again?” Auguste sounded truly pained as he imagined what sort of misadventures Damen would drag him into this time.

“Not today!” Damen amended quickly. “No just…before I leave I want to…” He then outlined his plan, struggling not to laugh as Auguste’s expression became more and more pained with each idea presented. By the end of Damen’s plan, his head was pressed flat on the table.

“God help me.”

“Auguste _please_.”

“I hate everything right now. You are at the top of the list.”

“But will you help me?”

“…Yes… _damn it,_ yes I’ll help you…”

Damen beamed and began to embrace Auguste, but Auguste fought him off in fake irritation. He had to know it was another good idea. While he was prodding Auguste, Laurent made his entrance and sat across from his brother. Unlike his brother, who massaged his temples when hung-over, Laurent kneaded the spot between his eyebrows.

Though he had been darling upon waking up, his mood instantly soured when the headache kicked in, and there was a subtle edge of razor-sharp anger underneath his controlled expression.

He nodded in thanks as he accepted the glass of water Damen poured for him.

“You are looking lovely and bright this morning, Laurent.” Auguste tried to sound chipper but failed miserably. Laurent looked as though he had never heard anything so preposterous in his life.

“Brother, I could cheerfully gut you at this moment.”

Water snorted out of Damen’s nose, unbidden, as someone knocked firmly on the door, causing both brothers to grip their heads at the same time. Laurent whimpered even though his eyes flashed with malice.

“I’ll behead whoever is outside.” Auguste promised. Damen rolled his eyes and decided it would be best if he answered the door.

There was a miserable looking servant with a breakfast tray standing right outside the door; he, unfortunately, did not have the luxury of sleeping off his hangover. Silently he prepared to push the cart through the doorway, but Damen kindly offered to take it in for him. Although the food was light, Laurent winced at the sight.

As soon as Damen sat down another knock came at the door.

Auguste held back from slamming his silverware down. A brittle smile cut across his face. “I’ll get it.”

When he returned, it was Jord who was at his heels, looking surprisingly well for such a long night. Then again, it was his job to be alert and focused, so he had probably not partied too hard the night before. He gave a sharp, clean bow when he came into their presence.

“Your majesties, I beg your pardon for interrupting your breakfast.”

Auguste waved his hand in dismissal as he seated himself again. “Oh please Jord.”

Jord smiled softly in understanding. “I understand. I’m here to discuss the betting over the stag hunt. Particularly for you Damianos.” Auguste and Laurent both looked at him in confusion over their toast. Their confusion quickly turned to shock when Jord set a huge, jingling purse on their table. “I should offer you my congratulations. These are your winnings. Half of the pot total.” He said this as though he did not completely believe it himself.

Damen smiled, but he too was a little amazed. “Who got the other half?” He knew there was a small fortune here, half the money from all the bettors in Arles.

Jord smiled softly as he turned to leave. “Young master Aimeric.”

Laurent was still shocked, his mouth slightly open, while Auguste laughed in utter astonishment. Carefully he pulled the drawstring, tipping the bag over so that gold and silver coins spilled out onto the table.

“You lucky bastard!” Auguste laughed.

Laurent, despite his headache was a bit more astute and did not chalk Damen’s winning up to luck. “How?” He asked, no longer looking strained, but wide-eyed with interest. “How on earth did you win? Did you bet that you would lose?” He laughed in disbelief; such an action seemed at odds with Damen’s normal confidence in his athleticism.

Damen smiled at Laurent. There was something so utterly delightful about being smooth when he was courting. “Mmmm…close.” He picked up one of the coins and compared it unfavorably in his mind to Laurent’s hair. “I bet _you_ would win.”

Auguste rolled his eyes back in his head.

Damen did not notice however, as he was too busy watching Laurent comprehend Damen’s clever play. Then he blushed, and blushed furiously, starting from the tips of his ears, all the way across his cheeks and down to his chest. Damen’s heart palpitated.

 

Although Auguste seemed annoyed at Damen’s latest plan, once they set about actually implementing it he became enthusiastically involved. Perhaps this was due even more to the fact that it had to be carried out secretly _inside_ the palace. Usually while Laurent was holed up in his study. When he was not, Jord, Nikandros and Aimeric, under solemn oath of secrecy, assisted one while the other distracted Laurent. But it was such a time-intensive labor that it took them almost until Damen’s last month in Arles to complete.

He still tried to spend every available moment with Laurent, from their frequent rides and daily sparring, to having long, impassioned discussions deep into the night. Since the night of the stag hunt, Damen woke up every morning to find Laurent dreaming in his arms and he found it harder and harder to leave the bed.

He was becoming acutely aware of how precious little time he had left…

One the final day of work, Damen and Auguste had been up all night and the dark sky was just turning an ephemeral blue-lavender at the hem. Very soon the first servants were going to be awake to stoke the fires in the kitchens.

“Oh look. Sunrise.” Auguste noted, deadpan. His normally bright eyes were dull from lack of sleep and his face looked gaunt. “What a wild night that was.”

Damen had the grace to look apologetic. “You can go if you want. You’ve helped me enough.”

Auguste did not need further invitation and headed immediately for the door in slow, shuffling footsteps. “I suppose since I’ve done so much, I won’t be present for the grand reveal?”

“Surely not.”

“You’re a selfish bastard.” Auguste sighed on his way out. “Be glad I hold you dear.”

“Truly, no one is more grateful.” Damen replied.

If anyone in Ios were to see Damen in his current state, they would be appalled to say the least. Such manual labor was so beneath the attentions of a Crown Prince that they would have been shocked to their very core. Damianos waxing floors and sweeping off dust, opening the windows and---horror upon horrors---cleaning the soot from off the marble of the fireplace? His steward would die for shame, but Damen did it with the greatest joy.

He took the greatest pleasure in giving his all for Laurent.

When he was thoroughly begrimed with all manner of dust, ash, and sweat, the sun was rising pale yellow in the sky. Surprisingly, he felt no fatigue, only deep, blazing excitement.

He locked the door behind him.

The servants and soldiers who were wandering the halls pressed themselves against the wall in abject horror as Damen, filth-covered and grinning like a fool, jogged past them on the way back to his quarters. Despite his cavalier attitude on the way there, he opened the door very carefully.

Auguste had not even bothered to remove his clothes but had sunk lifelessly in bed next to his brother. Laurent was also still asleep, but Damen knew he had to hurry, as Laurent was an early riser.

He threw himself into the tub for a quick wash and when he was lacing his newly scrubbed body into fresh set of clothes, he saw Laurent stirring on the bed.

The front of his flowing white shirt was only half-laced, showing off a generous chunk of his muscular chest, as he sat on the bed, directly beside Laurent. Damen wanted to be the first thing Laurent saw when he opened his eyes. As a force of habit, he cleared some of the hair from Laurent’s forehead and Laurent smiled softly at the feeling.

When his eyes opened, Laurent seemed surprised not to be draped across Damen.

“Damianos…” He lightly rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Why…what are you doing up,” Laurent yawned widely and began to stretch, “so early?”

Damen, filled with the same boldness on the day he had given Laurent his horse, took one of Laurent’s wrists in his hand and lightly kissed the silk-thin skin there. He could see the delicate blue veins beneath and felt the pulse in his own quivering lips.

“I have something I want to give you.”

Laurent was instantly alert, propping himself up on his elbows, causing his sleeping shirt to slide low on his milky shoulders. One yellow eyebrow was arched with interest. “Something else made of gold? There seems to be a common theme in your gifts to me…” When Damen refused to dignify him with a response, Laurent decided to be wicked. “Is it a secret surprise?”

“If you keep being annoying, Snow Prince, you’ll wake your brother.”

“Fine, fine.” Laurent sighed, though he was grinning, and began to climb out of bed. “Do I need to get dressed up for this occasion?”

Damen could honestly get used to the sight of Laurent in his pajamas. The loose-fitting white shirt hung down to his thighs and positively draped off his thin shoulders, while his soft brown trousers were rolled up to the knee, showing off his bare legs and feet. Damen wanted to hoist him up by the waist and kiss every bare bit of skin on his body.

Instead, all he could muster out was: “Your clothes now are fine.”

Even so, after he had blindfolded Laurent again, Damen kept the young man pressed out of sight between his torso and the marble walls. Laurent clung to his arm but was much more at ease than he had been the previous time he was blindfolded. No one seemed to notice the two of them wandering around so early.

Laurent seemed to know the halls of Arles very well, however, as his steps began to slow and his questions were tinged with suspicion.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Just trust me.”

“I do trust you.”

“Then quit asking me questions.” Damen ordered with a laugh in his voice. He finally stopped in front of the large double doors and pushed them open before dragging Laurent through and shutting the doors behind him. Laurent was quivering with nervous anticipation.

Damen grinned as he pressed himself flat against Laurent’s back, using the excuse of undoing the blindfold to run his hands on Laurent’s cool scalp. Damen’s hands trailed over the entire fine profile of Laurent’s face as he pulled the cloth down from off his eyes.

Laurent very nearly buckled from the shock.

The Veretian library was a wholly different place. Gone were the labyrinthine shelves, the dark curtains and walls, the dusty smell of an unaired room. Damen and Auguste had ripped up the wine-stained carpet and had craftsmen come in to lay down new hardwood floors. New shelves and desk nooks had been embedded into the walls, leaving only a few standing in the open space. It made things much less claustrophobic and made space for large oak tables and comfortable chairs in the center of the room. It smelled lightly of lemon blossom and lilac, crushed cunningly into the eaves of the bookshelves, and everything was immaculately clean.

It was so open, airy, and cheerful that it seemed to be a completely different room.

Some---Kastor for example---might think Damen had given Laurent something so superficial as a redecorated room. But it was not so simple. He had given Laurent peace of mind by replacing a sacred space another had profaned.

Laurent seemed to be in a trance while walking around in his ‘new’ library.

His elegant, pale fingers traced the familiar bindings of his books, across the bright windowpanes, and the carved details in the new furniture. He looked for a familiar stain on the floor---wine knocked over by the beast who had pinned him and haunted his dreams---and saw that it was nowhere to be found. A small sigh escaped him and he gripped the back of one of the chairs. Laurent’s expression was so touched he looked as though he could barely hold himself up.

“You…didn’t happen to find the craftsman who made the chairs in my study?”

Damen could barely speak for laughing. “Are you _serious_? You think I would put in all this effort, all this time and planning so I could trick you into a library with uncomfortable chairs? How petty do you think I am?”

Laurent could not help but laugh as well, facing Damen as he glowed. “ _Extraordinarily_ petty.”

“Do you like it?” Damen asked in a low tone when their laughter had subsided. He carefully watched Laurent, looking to see if he would brush his gratitude off with his normally flippant attitude.

Laurent’s eyes were wide and his smile was genuine. “How…could I not? It’s beautiful.” _Not as beautiful as your happiness_. “It’s perfect.” _You are perfect_. “It’s everything I could have ever dreamed of.” _You are all I dream of_ …

Damen’s throat was dry with the words he wanted to say. “I am…so pleased that it suits your tastes.”

For a moment there was just silence as Laurent gripped his chair and Damen stood, studying his every duplicitous action. The tension was thick in the air as neither one of them seemed to know what to do next.

Then Laurent stretched himself up onto the balls of his feet and crossed the space between them in three firm strides.

Damen was nearly bent double as Laurent pulled him down so that their foreheads could touch in their familiar gesture of intimacy. But this was even closer. Really the only part of them that wasn’t touching were their lips. From brow and breast to hips and thighs, every part of the front of Damen and Laurent’s bodies were pressed tight together. All but the lips…

Damen was focusing all his effort on not becoming aroused, but it was _so_ hard to not be because his vision was filled with so many tantalizing sights, his body overwhelmed with stimulus.

Laurent’s eyes were closed, but Damen could feel his cool breath only a whisper away from his own lips. He could feel Laurent’s slim hands gripping his biceps, feel him breathing through the lean muscle and delicate bones of his back…Laurent’s long legs were woven between his, and---god help him---Damen could _clearly_ feel the outline of Laurent’s cock through his pajama pants. Damen could feel himself flush with blood.

It could have been hours or only seconds that they were pressed together, but when Laurent stepped back, Damen’s whole body ached and his fingertips trembled.

And when Laurent stared up at him, Damen had a feeling like a warm stone sinking into the pit of his stomach. A feeling that if he held no other man or woman other than Laurent like that for the rest of his life…he would be perfectly happy.

 _Oh, fuck_ , he thought.


	18. Year 18 (Part 5)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An early chapter??? WHAAAAAT??? You all can thank the commenter Andraanna, it's their birthday tomorrow so this is an early birthday gift for all of ya'll. Also happy Lunar New Year! Year of the Cock...how appropriate ;)  
> Anyway...Gonna be real: you guys are going to HATE and SCREAM at the first 3/4 of this chapter; the last 1/4...MORE SCREAMING. I can't wait to hear from you guys about this one haha!  
> (Also, in all honesty chapter count might go up 1 or 2 once I start year 19)

** Vere: Year 18 (Part 5) **

In his last few weeks in Arles, Damen entered an almost depressive state that he only ever showed to Auguste.

The burden was heavy on his heart. He was so in love it seemed to push down on his chest and lungs, and there was no respite. Usually by now, his previous lovers would have realized that he was courting them and would have given him some definitive answer. But Laurent…Laurent had been avoiding him.

Maybe that was his answer.

As the time for him to return to Ios grew closer and closer, Laurent had been respectfully declining his invitations to ride, spar, and read together. He spent many nights up late in his study---doing god knew what---and sometimes not even returning for bed. If Damen had missed his presence before, it was nothing compared to now.

Auguste listened to him air his grievances with the patience of a saint.

“Have you told him?” Auguste asked finally, looking a bit unnerved.

“Auguste I can’t.” Damen responded in desperation. “I don’t know how I could do it without making him uncomfortable or scared. No one has noticed me courting him so there are no rumors swirling. Even if there were, he wouldn’t listen to them anyway. I cannot confess my feelings in front of everyone and put that pressure on him. But I am afraid to tell him alone. Afraid he might think…I’d pay him rough court.”

Auguste shook his head as if he could never believe such a thing.

“I thought about writing a letter but…I want him to see me, face to face, and see the feelings I have. Not read about them. I just…I don’t know what to do.”

Auguste tapped his finger with his lip and a sour twist came over his mouth. “You could…god, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you could ask my father and your father to draw up an alliance marriage. Pallas and Lazar are a testament to the fact you can marry him in Akielos.”

Pallas and Lazar were so in love, so thrilled to begin a new life together that Damen could not be in the same room with them these days. He smiled wryly at Auguste’s idea, knowing that Auguste didn’t like it, and besides Damen had already considered it.

“No…no that’s no good. He never got a choice in…’suitors’ before. I want him to choose.”

Auguste looked guilty for a moment and the two of them lapsed into thoughtfulness.

However, even in the last few days they were unable to come up with a solution. Auguste watched carefully as Damen roamed the halls restless and depressed while Laurent avoided him carefully, looking exhausted from whatever was keeping him in his study so late.

And then, the day before Damen was to leave and go home to Ios, he confided in Auguste.

The two of them, as they had done for the past six years, were spending their last night together, up late, drinking wine in the bed and talking. Damen was unusually somber as Laurent had once again refused to take a final ride with him in the forest and had not showed up for their late night party either.

Auguste comforted him, but Damen was lucid and calm, never bleary-eyed or blubbering. He smiled sadly.

“I think…this is his way of turning me down.” Auguste looked like he was about to protest, but Damen held up his hand in silence. “No, no. Give your brother some credit; he’s very intelligent. There’s no way he could misunderstand my intentions. I think he is trying to let me down gently.”

Auguste looked astonished. “You seem remarkably calm about this, for all that you claimed to love him so passionately.”

The wine did little to quench said-passion. “Auguste…I can honestly say, I think I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone. But,” in an aching moment of déjà vu Damen remembered the night he had told Laurent about the Snow Prince, “I don’t want my love to make him miserable. I’ll let him go.”

Auguste fell back on the pillows, nearly upsetting his wine glass. “Ughhh…you are too noble for your own good.”

Damen ruffled his golden hair, mostly because it reminded him of Laurent’s. “It took me nearly six years to fall in love with him, and I can live through my heartbreak if it makes him happy. Gods as my witness, I’ll marry your uncle if it makes your brother feel even a little safer.”

Auguste snorted and wine sprayed from his nose at the idea. Damen also couldn’t help but laugh at how uninhibited Auguste was in private. “I’m sorry for laughing, really I am. But…you _really_ do love him, don’t you?”

“Yes. I love him. More so than anyone else I’ve ever courted before.”

“More than me?” Auguste joked.

“Yes, yes.” Damen laughed again. “Sorry, but I love him more than I liked you. I think,” he took another deep drink of wine, “no one else would suit me so well. No one can challenge me or be so quick.” He was tipsy now and filled with the feeling of adoration, laughing tenderly. “Oh god, I love him.”

Auguste regarded him carefully for a moment. “I understand…”

The two of them stayed awake until dawn, just like they had while refurbishing the library for Laurent. And despite all the wine and the fact that he spent most of the night waxing poetic about Laurent, Damen remained clear-eyed and wistfully good-humored. Auguste remained largely silent, as if deep in thought.

Laurent had not appeared.

When the two of them heard a phalanx of servants carting things through the halls for the Akielons departure, Damen stood and stretched his arms over his head. He tried not to dwell on the fact that it had been three years in a row without him spending the last night with Laurent. Instead he forced a smile on his face and whirled to face Auguste.

“I feel better now. Who knows, by the time you come to Ios maybe…”

He shook his head and began to dress himself in his Akielon garments. Auguste did not even bother to ask him to finish his statement from before and the two of them walked in silence to the main courtyard. Auguste was being abnormally silent today, but Damen chalked it up to him leaving.

The group of well-wishers was larger today than it had been in recent memory, most of them being soldiers wanting to see Lazar off.

Damen tried to pretend that he was interested in saying farewell to the various Veretians who came up to him, but even King Aleron could not distract him from looking for that person he held dearest. It was hard not to feel disappointed as he did not see Laurent amongst the crowd.

Even as he had told everyone else goodbye, even after Auguste had given Lazar and Pallas a pair of fine horses to ride to Akielos as an engagement gift, even after he had embraced Auguste, Laurent did not appear.

Damen was about to hoist himself up in his saddle, when he heard the sound of running.

“Damianos!”

Damen turned without even looking; he knew that voice well enough, as he heard it nearly every night in his dreams. He had to force himself to move slowly to Laurent to prevent any unseemly rumors. Little good they would do him now that he had the resolve.

Laurent looked exhausted: eyes red, face gaunt, and lips chapped.

Damen wondered if he was getting enough sleep and longed to rub balm into those lips, hold him close…but he shook the thought from his mind. He had decided to hold himself back. Damen grinned and gently cupped Laurent’s face in his hands.

Laurent jerked a little, his eyes absolutely enormous, and it confirmed all of Damen’s suspicions. His attentions must have made Laurent highly uncomfortable.

His voice choked a little. “Until next year. Goodbye Snow Prince.”

Instead of resting his forehead against Laurent’s, as he usually did, or kiss Laurent full on the mouth, as he _wanted_ to, Damen simply kissed Laurent softly on the forehead. Then he turned away and mounted his horse without any emotional display; he had no private balcony this time…

He could not even bear to look back at Laurent.

When they were a good fifteen minutes outside of the palace, Nikandros rode abreast of him, looking slightly concerned. “Exalted One. Is something amiss? You seem…”

“I’m fine Nikandros, really.” Damen assured him. “Just a little tired.”

The conversation was abruptly halted as the sound of a galloping horse came up behind their group. Pallas and Lazar who had been insufferably flirtatious were instantly on alert and Lydos and Aktis circled their horses around in case of an attack. Even though they were still in Arles, Damen still put his hand on the pommel of his sword. The entire group was very tense until Damen heard his name and saw a flash of gold.

“Damianos!”

“Auguste? Wait here.” Damen ordered to his men before urging his horse into a canter. When he met Auguste, who was breathless and frazzled astride his fine horse, Damen felt a sharp twinge of fear. Was there an emergency back at the palace? Was Laurent all right?

“Damianos,” Auguste gulped. He looked quite unlike his normal self, what with the lack of sleep and his rush to catch Damen. “I’m so glad…I caught you! Thank god…you have to…you can’t give…”

Damen gripped him by the shoulders. “Calm down man! Is everything ok? Is Laurent…”

Auguste shook his head violently and Damen took the cue to shut up. “No! No…goddamn, let me…catch my breath!” He took a few deep breaths and then regained his composure. “I’m sorry, I should have told you…months ago, but…you _can’t_ give up. Don’t do it…”

“Auguste what in the _hell_ are you talking about?”

Auguste, impassioned and half-crazed, seized Damen by the shoulders and gripped him tight. “You fool! My brother! Laurent, he…he’s in love with you! He’s loved you for four years now! Ever since he was fifteen, ever since…you rescued him in that library.” He shook Damen’s shoulders. “He _loves_ you, goddamn it, so you can’t let him go, you absolutely _can’t_!”

Damen felt like the world was spinning around him. “What…are you saying?”

“He doesn’t know I’m gone. I swore secrecy to him but…after you said you would respectfully create distance,” Auguste cleared the gold from his eyes, “I had to break my oath to save your non-existent love lives.”

“You’re not lying?” Damen asked. He was beginning to feel exhilarated.

The air seemed to come in crisp and sweet, swelling his lungs to pain, and everything in his vision began to glow with the force of his happiness. Where the world had seemed gloomy and hopeless only moments before, now everything was rose-colored.

“Why would I lie about something like this?” Auguste barked in annoyance. “I raced out to catch you before you hardened your resolve. I swear on my crown, on my life, he is in love with you. Now I must go back.”

“Auguste wait!” Damen caught his arm, pulsing with the desire to know more. “I have so many questions!”

Auguste reined in his horse. “I have to hurry back before anyone…before Laurent notices my absence. I’ll write. I’ll explain everything, I promise!” He had started racing away before even finishing his thought.

“If you don’t we are no longer friends!” Damen shouted, laughing.

Auguste flipped up his middle finger as he rode off.

Although Nikandros and the rest of his entourage questioned him at length on their long ride to Marlas, Damen was hazy with sheer and utter joy. It circled in his mind and beat through his bloodstream in an elated mantra: _Laurent loved him. He loved Damen. The Little Scholar, the Snow Prince loved him_. Damen wanted to scream it and sing it to every village they rode through, and only the finest thread of self-control kept him from riding back through the gates of Arles to find the one he loved.

Never had there been a day so beautiful in Damen’s mind.

He rode into the gates of Marlas at midnight in the best of humors and waited up for hours in the greatest delight until the messenger came. He had not slept for almost two days now, but his happiness outweighed his exhaustion.

When the messenger, dead-tired and covered in dirt, was announced, Damen struggled not to crush the man in a hug and instead gave him five gold coins and leave to go to sleep for his trouble.

The envelope was thick, bulging with its’ contents, but Damen forced himself to be patient.

It would do him no good to be dead on his horse for the journey to Ios tomorrow and so Damen left the letter tantalizingly unopened on his bedside table, waiting until well after dawn to begin reading.

He broke the wax seal carefully as he rode to prevent the precious papers from scattering around him, and pulled out the fine sheets of paper. Auguste had obviously written under duress because his normally messy handwriting was almost an illegible scrawl.

He clutched the pages tight and began to read as he rode through the Akielon countryside.

_Damianos,_

_I can only hope that as I am writing this that you do not barrel through the gates of Arles with hell at your heels; not only will it make my hasty writing moot, it will surely crush Laurent’s trust in me if you come in and confess your love out of nowhere. As soon as I finish this letter, I will send it out with my fastest messenger, so sit your ass in that saddle and ride to Ios. I will explain to the best of my ability._

_Four years ago, the night after Govart attacked Laurent, the two of us stayed up late into the night talking. You gave us space as a courtesy to the intimacy of brothers, and I thank you for that. But Laurent confided in me at that time how he believed he was falling in love with you._

_At first, I thought it was a crush, perhaps brought about by the intensity of the moment._

_Indeed, it seemed that fate was actively discouraging him to admitting his feelings for a few reasons. First, it appears that he still believes you harbor feelings for me. On the day after I punished Govart, he saw us fight in the orchards and you comfort me, and thought it was a sign of intimacy and he has seen us in the playful intimacy of our friendship at every turn. For all his stunning bravado I believe Laurent to be shy, insecure, and unbearably dense when it comes to reading the atmosphere. Our closeness and my near-constant denial do little to discourage these thoughts. I think he was also supremely disappointed when you kicked him out of your quarters our last year in Ios. He took it as a sign that did not wish to be close to him, though I assured him it was only done out of your blunt honor._

_The second is partly your own doing, you great flirt, as your reputation precedes you. At first I explained that you had no interest in teenagers who had yet to reach manhood, as an explanation for your apparent disinterest. But now there is no excuse. Now, because of your careful handling of him, the way you treat him unlike any other lover of the past, makes him think that you still don’t have any intentions with him, outside of the younger brother of his friend. My brother has mistaken your unique treatment of him as the attentions of a brother and friend. I would laugh if I didn’t love you both so much._

_So here we stand: Damianos, who treats my brother as Veretian glass, afraid any emotion may startle him to fear; Laurent, who refuses for once to listen to or to see reason but is guided by timidity and rumors; and me, Auguste, listening to the both of you proclaim your love without the two of you ever actually doing anything frank._

_(And don’t you dare argue with me about all the effort you spent on your gifts; I would have done the same for him, had there been no war so he regards them as tokens from a beloved brother)._

_So you can have no doubt in my accounts now._

_You may be wondering why I didn’t tell you all of this until only now. It is with some amount of shame that I must tell you I honestly doubted your intentions. Until you told me you were going to give him up out of love did I realize that you were not chasing your lust. I ask for your forgiveness on this._

_So…since you are so in love with my brother, it should please you to know that he is desolate after your departure._

_Since you made no promise to write and made no mention of your missing him, he was quite as depressed as you were when you left. When I mentioned that you had felt his absence acutely in your last days here, he provided an explanation as to why he had been in his study for so many hours._

_I am sure his response will delight you._

_Hoping to appeal to your practical side, he has been researching with single-mindedness how to draft a political alliance through marriage. Specifically a marriage alliance between Akielos and Vere; apparently you had a discussion with him that your future partner could very well be a man and he has taken the initiative. You must give him credit, for he has drawn up a contract that will veritably decide his future, offering himself up to a man who he can only_ hope _will fall in love with him. If not then he has effectively condemned himself to a life of bitter heartbreak. Once he drafts up several copies to his liking, he plans to present them to our father before sending one to your father as well. Crafty, isn’t he?_

 _For however close you may be, it pleases me to know that Laurent still trusts me the most, more than you even, with his feelings…though if the two of you actually_ do _something rather than burdening me with your feelings, that may soon change._

_So, I am caught between annoyance and great excitement._

_I am annoyed because you, you flower-thief, have done exactly what my countrymen warned me of and have fallen in love with a blond, blue-eyed beauty; but you’ve fallen head-over-heels for the one no one expected: my baby brother. And even more surprising, he returns your love. My threat can be updated that if you break his heart or,_ god FORBID, _you lie with another at any time during the rest of your life, I will cut off your cock. I am not pleased at the thought of surrendering my brother to the hands of a barbarian._

 _On the other hand, I am delighted! That the two people I hold dearest in the world would find the ones they love…that I can_ finally _rest easy at night knowing my beloved brother can escape from my poisonous court, his hell, to the arms of someone who loves him as he is. That is why I helped you this year in Arles. But no more._

_No, this letter, this confirmation of your feelings, this is the last bit of help you will receive from me. The rest of your courtship you must do on your own. And don’t you dare let Laurent know my hand in this._

_Although I believe in this moment that Laurent has every intention of submitting a draft for a political marriage between the two of you, convincing him your feelings are genuine will fall on your shoulders. I will watch the two of you struggle from the sidelines._

_I am giving this to the messenger now, with instructions to ride with all haste. Hopefully he will reach you at the halfway point, if not, then Ios._

_I will sleep now. Write to my brother, goddamn you._

_Your friend,_

_Auguste_

By this time, Damen’s horse had been going at its’ own pace and was now several lengths ahead of the others in his group. Perhaps they knew that he would want some privacy while reading his letter, and it was a blessing they had done so.

Damen was crying.

Tears of joy poured down his cheeks, as he had never felt more elated in his life. To go from the resolve to give up the one he loved, to knowing that the Little Scholar loved him? It felt as though his chest might explode.

Before he had been running away from the pain in Arles, but now he could not wait to go home so that he could speak to his father immediately.

He had to write to Laurent. He had to plan what his next steps were. Order Laurent’s next gift. He had to write to Laurent. To tell him that he would write him, that he missed him, that he could not wait to embrace him again…

Damen clutched Auguste’s letters to his chest before throwing out his arms in exuberance. He let out a yell that startled his horse into a flat-out run across the fields.

But all Damen could do was go limp and watch the sky as it flew past.

 _Laurent loved him_.

Nothing else in the world mattered.


	19. Year 19 (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are in the home-stretch and my god, thank you to everyone who liked and commented on my last chapter! I'm so glad it gave you all a hardcore case of feelings!  
> ANYYYYWAY...Year 19 is gonna be a long one; depending on how much I decide to write, it might be like 7 parts, so I'll up the chapter count accordingly. In today's episode we have Laurent being a transparent sweetheart and another one of Damen's gifts that showcases just how FREAKING SMOOTH he is ;) Happy Wednesday everyone!

** Akielos: Year 19 (Part 1) **

It was almost miraculous how easily Damen awoke as soon as the sun began to rise. It was almost miraculous, given the fact that he had barely been able to sleep that night for excitement. He had spent most of the evening re-reading his and Laurent’s correspondence from the past eight months. Laurent had been delighted to receive letters from Damen (though he did not state it outright) and Damen had decided to engage in an unspoken battle with his Snow Prince.

He wanted Laurent to confess to him first. He wanted Laurent to tell him, to his face that he was in love with Damen.

He should have realized that Laurent would provide him more of a challenge than any other lover he had ever taken in the past. He smiled at the thought as he pinned on his new tunic and raked a comb through his unruly curls.

This time he rode off almost unaccompanied, save for Nikandros and Lazar, who were the only ones to rise so early. Normally Pallas would join them on such an expedition, but he was exhausted from the attentions of his new husband.

Damen and Nikandros were cheerfully ribbing Lazar about this.

He was nigh unrecognizable, what with his skin having been tanned as deep as Damen’s and his brown hair so long it had to be tied in a bun. He had also become even more laid-back than before and was excited to see his friends, so he brushed off Damen and Nikandros’ teasing about his ‘wife’.

When they saw dust on the horizon, Damen felt as though he suddenly could not breathe.

The next set of events happened in a flurry of color and motion.

Damen’s horse reared up in the air as two matching golden blurs swirled around him and he moved without even thinking. Auguste gave him only a short embrace so that his arms could be promptly be filled with Laurent. It was like he was whole again.

“Damianos! You’re crushing me!”

That voice, whispered every night in his dreams, pierced through his hazy joy. He released that lean, gorgeous body and stepped back, still holding onto Laurent by his elbows. The person, so familiar and so dear, stood before him nearly laughing and out of breath from the long journey.

“Laurent.” Was all Damen could manage before the rest of the Veretians caught up.

Just as before in the library of Arles, Laurent smiled as he pulled Damen’s head down so that their foreheads could touch in the familiar gesture of intimacy. Damen felt as though the spot on his forehead was burned and he could practically _feel_ Auguste rolling his eyes.

“I…missed you,” Laurent said when they broke away, but his eyes flashed wickedness. “But only a little.”

As the large group rode back to Ios, mostly the conversation was taken up by teasing Lazar, the first of his friends to marry. Though they did remark favorably on his warm pallor and apparent happiness.

“You’ve found the taste of an Akielon so favorable, have you?” Jord teased and Lazar smiled beatifically. “Is that why your sweet husband did not join you on an early morning ride? Or had he taken one before you left on horseback?”

Everyone laughed heartily at the joke, even Lazar, but he was simply waiting for his chance to spar.

“Akielons taste of honey and sea salt. And those are ironic comments coming from you; I may have fallen for an insatiable foreigner, but at least I am not wooing the nobility.” The Akielon sun had not cause Lazar to lose his Veretian tongue.

There was a hushed gasp and some snorting from the group at the skillful jab and Lazar’s excellent knowledge of rumors. Damen saw Jord blushing furiously and swiveled to see Aimeric flushing a most attractive shade of pink; Laurent had gleefully outlined their courtship and Councilor Guion’s horror in one memorable letter.

Laurent seemed to tire of his men’s banter and nonchalantly nudged his horse up next to Damen.

Damen tried not to grin too widely.

Now that he knew Laurent loved him, it was easy to see through his attempts. The way he insisted on riding close to Damen or urging his horse just a little faster so that the two of them could be somewhat private…the way he seemed curl his hair behind his ear or smile softly whenever Damen glanced at him…Damen was realizing it now but his Little Scholar had his tells.

Laurent jumped a little as Damen took the initiative to clear the hair from his eyes and Damen bit back a smile when he saw Laurent’s ear turn pink. “I certainly hope you won’t seclude yourself in the library as soon as we reach home---my home.”

Laurent was so riled by Damen’s teasing that he did not seem to notice the snafu. “My god, you never let things rest.” He tossed his head in a lovely golden blur. “I already apologized and besides…I had to deal with a matter of importance to Vere.”

Damen almost snorted at the neat lie.

First of all, Laurent had ‘apologized’ in his own special way, which was not at all and placed the blame squarely on Damen’s shoulders, via one of his first letters. Second, he had never actually disclosed what the ‘matters of importance’ were, despite Damen’s numerous questions. And finally, Laurent had no idea that Damen knew about the marriage contract---a copy of which had been sent to Theomedes and read over by Damen.

It was kind of a nice feeling though, to know that he had outfoxed such a sharp mind. “I understand. The duty of a prince calls. But I will allow you a brief respite so that you can greet Isander.”

Laurent grinned at the thought of Isander; no doubt he and Aimeric would get along swimmingly.

However, Damen and Laurent still had one major obstacle to cross before they could begin to relax, and that obstacle was waiting with barely contained excitement in the center of the main courtyard. At the very first sight of horses, Kastor was on his feet with five year-old Timon at his side. Though Timon looked down swiftly and attempted to immediately hide behind his grandfather, Kastor was as brash and resplendent as ever and did not hide the amazement in his face when he got an eyeful of Laurent.

Laurent had his tells. Perhaps only Damen and Auguste could notice the flintiness in his eyes and the subtle clench in his white jaw. Despite the extreme intimacy of the gesture, Kastor offered Laurent his hand to dismount, as if he were a maiden.

Skillfully dodging the extended hand, Laurent tossed him the reins instead and thanked him with a deep bow.

Luckily Kastor was just thick enough not realize how Laurent had outmaneuvered him and his attention was drawn away by trying to find a stableboy to take the reins from him. Damen would have laughed, had his humor not been warring with another, more surprising, emotion that boiled in his gut.

It was jealousy.

In the past, perhaps he would have chalked it up to annoyance due to Kastor’s lack of tact or his fiery protectiveness for Laurent. But now he knew the name of this feeling: the feeling of wanting slap his older brother until he averted his eyes, the tingling feeling of fury for anyone who wanted to touch the one he loved, the overwhelming urge to hide Laurent behind him, like he had done so many times before.

It was almost amazing the _strength_ of his jealousy, as it flared even when Laurent smiled and conversed with Theomedes. But Laurent shot him glances every now and then, even when he was greeted by the kyroi.

Damen was secretly gleeful then. Because no matter how Kastor embarrassed himself in the name of ‘courtship’ or how badly the kyroi wanted him to marry their own sons or daughters…it was all for naught.

Because Laurent loved Damen. He grinned goofily and meandered over to Laurent’s side, moving in small steps until he was effectively blocking Laurent from view.

“My lords, if we are to enjoy our feast tonight, you might give the Princes of Vere time to relax from their long journey. I assure you, they will be with us for quite some time.” Gently he reached behind him while his kyroi were bowing and ‘Exalted One’-ing him and clasped Laurent around the wrist.

Another clue: his pulse was thundering fast under the pads of Damen’s fingers.

With a gentle tug, Damen began to trot lightly, dragging Laurent along with him. Auguste also joined them after he had parted from Timon and, as much as Damen cared for Auguste, he wanted nothing more than to be alone with Laurent now. He grinned mischievously at Auguste.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” Auguste asked lightly, making it clear he wouldn’t turn a blind eye so easily. But Damen had a trump card.

“Your cock isn’t hard yet?” Damen teased.

The effect was almost instantaneous. Auguste, in his concentration over watching Damen flirt, had forgotten one of his most favorite pastimes in Ios and his face began to flush, his pants beginning to look quite cramped. For Laurent, the mentioning of hardening cocks made his pulse skyrocket and Damen promised himself to think of Laurent’s cock hardening in the privacy of his own room that evening.

“You are…” Auguste began, torn between irritation at Damen’s ploy and delight at the idea of sex.

“An excellent host?” Damen offered pushing the door open.

Auguste inhaled sharply when he got a good look inside and he could no longer hide his arousal; Damen knew the easiest way to distract Auguste and today it happened to be with two naked women, one with blood red hair and milky-blind eyes and the other albino with white hair hanging in cornrows down to her feet. If there was any doubt to him being a match for Laurent in cunning, Damen had crushed that doubt today.

Gently he pushed Auguste in the small of his back towards the ladies, preparing to slam the door behind him. “Please, don’t hesitate. Take your time.”

“You would have made a good Veretian!” Auguste called before the door was closed on him.

“What was that all about?” Laurent asked as Damen began to laugh.

“Your brother still foolishly believes that he can beat me in a competition. I believe we’ve been in this situation before; I gave your brother pleasure and now it’s your turn,” Laurent’s pulse quickened again though his expression did not change, “shall I do as I did before and carry you to the library?”

Now that he knew Laurent’s true feelings, Damen was as bold as he dared with his teasing flirtations. Laurent hesitated only a moment and his ears went crimson, so Damen presumed he would very much like to be held in Damen’s arms.

“You must be---.”

Laurent’s line of thought was abruptly cut short by Damen shooting forward in an easy wrestling move that caught Laurent around the waist. Lean as he was, Damen easily hoisted him up, feeling Laurent’s breath catch in his lungs. Teasingly, Damen dipped him like he would a princess and kissed one of Laurent’s outstretched hands.

Laurent’s blue eyes became saucer-wide at Damen’s cheekiness. “Your Majesty?”

“Put me down, you brute!” Laurent gasped struggling though Damen knew it was not with his full strength.

This was a fun game they were playing, but he relented and set Laurent down. For a moment his Little Scholar looked to be biting back a pout, but it could have been Damen’s imagination as his face resumed its’ normal cool look of disinterest.

As they walked alongside each other on the familiar route to the library, Damen made sure to ‘accidentally’ brush his knuckles against Laurent’s hand a few times to gauge his reaction. Laurent was very controlled, save for his ears.

“Oh, by the way,” Damen remarked casually as they got close to the library, “I have a small gift for you…well I commissioned it. Isander actually did quite a bit of it himself and…I am doing a poor job of explaining it. I’ll just show you.”

There was a great exclamation as Laurent and Damen entered the library.

The most exuberant nearly slid across the mosaic floors on his knees to plant loving kisses on the tops of Laurent’s feet. Laurent groaned in spite of the delighted smile that glowed on his face.

“Isander, we’ve been through this before…”

One of the most heartbreakingly lovely faces in the palace of Ios snapped up at the sound of Laurent’s voice and Isander’s large, dark eyes were swimming with tears. For him it had been near three years since the last time he had seen his ‘master’ and in his delight, he had reverted back to the mindset of a slave.

“Your Highness,” Isander responded in heavily accented Veretian, “I have missed you desperately.” Though he rose elegantly, he kept his head bowed in submission.

“And I have missed you.” Laurent responded kindly. “I see you have been practicing Veretian!”

“I still have…much to learn.” Isander glowed with the unspoken compliment.

“Isander,” Damen interrupted gently, “I have mentioned to Prince Laurent our gift to him. I hope I can present it to him sometime this evening?”

The excitement was palpable on Isander. His hands were twisting in his tunic in anticipation and he kept looking between the two princes. “Exalted One! O-Of course! The glue is currently drying, but I will have it prepared and delivered before dinner this evening.”

“Glue?” Laurent raised an eyebrow but Damen and Isander refused to comment any more.

Damen ruffled Isander’s silky black hair. Many in Ios had taken note of Isander in the past few years despite his unfinished training, including Kastor and several kyroi. But technically he still ‘belonged’ to Laurent so no one could force him to do anything…save for Damen.

Almost as soon as Damen had arrived home from Vere the previous summer, he had instantly sought out the pretty librarian to confirm the contents of Auguste’s letter. At first, when questioned Isander had---in true Veretian fashion---tried several approaches to weaseling his way out of answering directly, complete with feigning ignorance and even tears, but Damen held firm. Finally, Isander admitted that, although Laurent never spoke his true feelings, Isander had gotten the distinct feeling that Laurent had strong feelings for Damen.

There could be no further question then; slaves were trained specifically to note these delicate feelings in others. So Damen had roped Isander into his wooing and Isander was more than pleased to do something for his ‘master’.

Damen decided to leave the two of them alone to catch up and read.

He kissed Isander lightly on the fingertips, glancing under his eyelashes to see Laurent’s reaction. Laurent seemed coolly fascinated by his cuticles until Damen released Isander and wandered over to him.

Damen ruffled his hair and then boldly kissed Laurent on the crown of his head, before nonchalantly walking away.

“I’ll see you at dinner, Snow Prince.”

 

By dinner, Damen could barely sit still for excitement.

Isander had found a moment to slip away during the afternoon and brought Laurent’s gift to Damen’s quarters. Damen had looked through it with delight until dinner. When the servants lit the torches for dinner, Damen rubbed perfumed oils on his arms and chest and changed into his best tunic: a deep wine red with elaborate golden borders. It was important that he wear this particular outfit that evening.

Before Isander had left, Damen had also given him a few more instructions for the night, and was now pacing restlessly with a glass of wine. Auguste took note and wandered over with a wicked grin.

He was remarkably relaxed after his afternoon ‘rest’. “Why are you so restless this evening?”

“Because I didn’t spend the afternoon having my cock sucked.”

Several people jumped and looked in astonishment as wine spurted out of Auguste’s mouth in laughter. He took care to wipe his mouth, but there were a few reddish-purple spots on the sleeve of his chiton. “My god…Damianos. You are quick as my brother. Where is he, by the way?”

Damen arched one eyebrow. “And you are just as devious as he is. I assume he’s getting ready at the moment.” He tried to sound disinterested but it came out a bit strangled.

“Mhmm,” Auguste sounded as though he did not believe Damen at all, and then he grinned. “Well, looks like he’s done changing.”

Damen could not help himself and his head snapped up to attention, desperately looking around for his Snow Prince. He cared little that Auguste was laughing at his predictability. When he finally set eyes on Laurent, Damen felt his heart thump unevenly.

Isander had followed his instructions beautifully and given Laurent the clothes Damen had specially ordered for him. It was a three-layered himation, with each layer progressively paler and paler blue, the exotic ice blue of a frozen lake. It was clasped at the shoulder with a silver pin and the border was intricately embroidered in silver and white; if one were to get close enough to inspect carefully, they would see the tiny snowflakes around the hem. A Snow Prince indeed.

The color looked so alluring and unique with Laurent’s pale coloring that many others stared quite blatantly, whispering about snowy Laurent.

Damen set his wine glass down immediately and abandoned his conversation with Auguste to move to Laurent’s side. Laurent smiled as Damen sidled up next to him, striking a sharp contrast in their coloring.

“You have an interesting sense of humor.” Laurent remarked, thumbing the delicate silver flakes. “Snowflakes in Ios?”

“I’ve never seen you in the snow. But…I bet it suits you.” Damen thought of flushed pink cheeks and warming a frozen body. “Shall we go sit? Do you want wine?”

Laurent did follow him but at the mention of wine, he made a face of disgust. “No thank you.”

Dinner was almost painful for Damen.

First of all, he could not focus on the food or wine for glancing at Laurent during their conversation and he was excited to give Laurent his gift after dinner. But mostly he shared in the jealous fury of Jokaste as Kastor shamelessly flirted with Laurent. Jokaste was angry but her husband’s infidelity was a fact of life for her, so she kept her mouth shut. Damen, on the other hand, was under no such obligation and waited for a timely moment to intervene.

Even Auguste, despite all Ios made him relax, was on edge as Kastor drunkenly monopolized his younger brother. Laurent was very cool to Kastor but made a distinct effort to be diplomatic.

However, when Kastor began to press Laurent to drink wine, Laurent looked around desperately for an escape. Damen needed no further invitation and quickly inserted himself between Kastor and Laurent, snatching up the proffered wineglass.

“Damianos.” Kastor slurred in confusion. “What are you---?”

Damen grinned sourly at his brother. “His Highness is allergic to grapes.” The lie came easy and unbelievable to any sober soul and he felt Laurent begin to shake with silent laughter behind him. Before Kastor could protest, Damen downed the wine in three deep gulps.

Kastor’s brow furrowed, but he could not retain his sulk for long. “Bring…the other pretty one then! Ishander will…drink!”

Isander was sitting demurely between Aimeric and Orlant, using his simple, accented Veretian to impress the latter. He had no idea of the storm that could be approaching him. Just as Damen became infuriated, he felt Laurent rise next to him in his icy rage.

“Your Majesty,” His Akielon was soft and deadly and Damen just let him go; Laurent was more skilled at tongue-lashings than he was. “I beg of you as my host, to show some of the grace you are famed for to your guest. And for me, hospitality entails _not_ distressing my servants. I find it most… _unusual_ to have to even ask such a thing, but if you value me as a guest and ally, I _implore_ you: _do not touch Isander_.”

Kastor, even in his drunken state, looked severely taken aback at Laurent’s anger and sank back down like a whipped hound. More than anything his ego was hurt; he was not used to being reprimanded by potential lovers.

Laurent on the other hand seemed ready to retire and thanked Theomedes for the lovely dinner. Damen hastily excused himself as well and followed Laurent through the dining hall.

He seemed to pick his way across the room, bidding good night to his brother and soldiers, but he took extra time near Isander.

Isander rose at the sight of him, bowing quickly. “Your Highness, do you wish to return to your quarters?” He glowed as a smiling Laurent laid one hand on his bowed head.

“Yes, but I insist that you stay. But drink no more wine.”

Isander bowed again, thrilled to obey an order, and sat as Laurent turned to Orlant. Orlant, dark of hair with intelligent green eyes and a serious personality, listened carefully as Laurent spoke in the quickest Veretian. Damen caught most of it and Orlant seemed well pleased with the instructions:

“Orlant, my faithful soldier on your honor to me, drink no more and stay by my servant Isander the rest of the night. Do not leave his side until he is safely in his quarters and anyone who attempts to discourage or challenge you on this, use me as your excuse. Make it law.”

“Of course.” Orlant assented, seeming pleased to be close to Isander for the rest of the evening.

Laurent nodded and Damen followed close behind as they left the room.

He sighed, shoulders drooping, and Damen came up close behind him so that he could dig his thumbs into those lean, tense muscles. It had been so long since he had caressed someone so intimately and he did not know how he could bear to let go. Laurent rolled his head to give Damen easier access to his slim neck and Damen happily obliged.

Servants made themselves scarce this time of evening, and that was all well and good, as it would have been shockingly erotic to see Prince Damianos touching Prince Laurent in such a… _familiar_ way. Especially since Damen had not taken a lover in almost two years. Many were highly concerned at this development.

“I apologize on behalf of my brother.” Damen finally remarked, moving his thumb in circles right beneath Laurent’s golden hairline. “His treatment of both you and Isander was…inexcusable and embarrassing.”

Laurent was at ease now, his muscles having been rubbed into submission. “I do not worry myself over every drunkard who cannot hold his tongue. I just hoped to avoid an international falling out.”

“I would never let that happen.” Damen protested gently.

“If you truly want to make it up to me, your gift had best be something I can throw at your brother.” Laurent leaned back into Damen’s hands with a smile in his voice. “After all, diplomacy is my strong suit.”

“You very might well be able to kill someone with it.” Damen replied. “But if Kastor bothers you again, please let me know and I will set him straight.”

That was the understatement of the century.

Akielons, Damen included, were so hot-blooded and possessive when it came to serious lovers, that any perceived insult could result in a duel. Though Damen could not exactly challenge his brother to a fight to the death, he could threaten and intimidate efficiently. As much as he _wanted_ to maim anyone who caused Laurent discomfort and kill anyone who looked at him with lust, he had to rest easy in the knowledge that Laurent loved him. But by god, he would warn Kastor.

By the time they reached Damen’s quarters, Laurent was as loose and soft as overcooked noodles and Damen’s fingers were throbbing with the desire to touch him more.

The doors opened easily with the force of the ocean breeze and Laurent hesitantly stepped into Damen’s rooms. Perhaps he realized he had not been inside for almost three years.

“I prefer the view from your room.” Laurent sighed walking towards the gauzy curtains where he could hear the methodic crash of the waves.

“Are you intent on kicking me out of my rooms?” Damen laughed as he lit the lamps.

“Is that your gift to me?” Laurent sat smoothly on the edge of Damen’s bed, kicking off his sandals. The curve of one milky calf flashed out from under the ice-blue fabric and Damen busied himself quickly before he became aroused.

Without looking up, Damen flipped open the intricately carved cedar chest at the foot of his bed where he kept his treasured possessions. The chest had been his mother’s---a gift on her wedding day---and Damen shifted his ceremonial military sword, his circlet of gold leaves, and some trinkets of his childhood from the top of the pile so that he could reach toward the bottom.

Nestled between carefully wrapped stacks of letters, was Laurent’s gift: encased in brown paper and tied with twine. Damen’s heart was hammering as he fished it out.

By now Laurent was watching him intently.

“Is that your treasure chest?”

“Yes. Sometime I’ll show you what’s inside but for now,” Damen stood smoothly and shut the chest before going to sit by Laurent, “you can open your gift; a late birthday present from Isander and I.”

Laurent accepted it with a grateful nod and ran his hands over the wrapping. “I can only hope it’s not another horse.”

Damen laughed at his morbid joke and twisted his hands in excitement as Laurent untied the twine and peeled off the outer paper. The thick book that fell onto his lap was bound in black with pale gold filigree borders and two small golden starbursts on the center cover. His Little Scholar, a lover of books without equal, already looked pleased. But then he opened the book.

Damen had commissioned his own favorite book, the book of Akielon folk and fairy tales, to be translated and written in Veretian. And Isander had revealed himself as a skilled artist and offered to draw the pictures to accompany the stories. Laurent seemed enchanted by it, his smile wide and filled with emotion.

“Do you like it?” Damen asked when Laurent was quiet for a long while.

“Isander painted these?” Laurent asked, too engrossed in his gift. “It’s lovely. And I might add, the stories are much more enjoyable in such a beautiful language as Veretian.” Damen pushed his shoulder at this, but Laurent did not look up. Damen took it as a sign that Laurent truly loved the book.

“I’m so pleased you like it. Shall we read?”

Laurent nodded without even looking up and he and Damen took up their old reading position: Damen reclined on the bed with his back straight against the headboard and Laurent nestled up between his arm and side so that Damen could read over top of his blond head.

But Damen could not focus on reading. He was waiting for a certain chapter…

His tension came to a head as Laurent finally flipped the page to ornate script announcing the next story to be the story of the Snow Prince. And Isander had outdone himself according to Damen’s instructions.

The accompanying paintings for the story were very intricate and not at all subtle.

The Snow Prince in this version of the book stood in a background of white snow and black tree trunks, wearing a doublet in the Veretian style, dark blue and hemmed with silver. His hair was the palest of gold and Isander had somehow managed to capture that cool, beautiful profile in clever strokes of his brush.

If Laurent recognized the uncanny resemblance, he made no remark, even as the story continued.

Damen knew what came on the next page: the Sun King’s soldier with his dark skin and curly dark hair, dressed in the same red and gold as Damen. The Sun King’s soldier watching the Snow Prince from high in the sky.

Laurent had a magnificent poker face.

He turned the pages with a steady hand, but Damen saw his smallest finger tremble, and Damen could feel Laurent’s rapid pulse through his back. Damen braced himself for what would happen next.

Isander and Damen had changed the story a little to suit their needs. This time the Snow Prince willingly went with the one who loved him but could not get too close without melting; the paintings showed the two of them, unable to kiss, but with their foreheads pressed together in a summer palace, black curling against gold.

And the end they had changed as well.

When the soldier took the Snow Prince back to his kingdom (and to a man who may or may not have bore a striking resemblance to Auguste), the soldier this time promised to return. Four months of the year, when winter came and the sun shone cold on the snowy mountains and forest, the soldier visited his snow prince. And the last painting, so cleverly planned, had the Snow Prince smiling with his forehead pressed against his lovers’, as he wore a himation in ice blue, edged with white and silver snowflakes.

Laurent was very still at the end of the story, his fingertips barely touching the gorgeous artwork. Damen noticed his ears burning scarlet and decided to feign sleep when Laurent turned to face him.

Damen felt blue eyes boring into his face, even though his eyes were closed, and he knew if he were to lean forward a few inches his lips would meet Laurent’s. Instead he made a show of awakening slowly and Laurent was not facing him when he opened his eyes.

The book was closed.

“Mmmmm…sorry, I nodded off. I have not your concentration.” Damen stretched and ruffled Laurent’s hair. “Did you finish it? How did you like it?”

“It is…poorly translated.” Laurent murmured, though he clutched his gift tight.

Damen chuckled at his flippancy. “Oh yes, I requested some of the stories changed a little, but I’m sure that will make them new and exciting. Did you like Isander’s artwork?”

Laurent put an effort in to smile. “Oh…oh yes. I had no idea he was so skillful. I will be sure to thank him.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Damen murmured, toying with a few strands of Laurent’s hair for a moment. Now he was not bluffing and his eyes were actually getting heavy. His fingertips accidentally brushed against Laurent’s burning hot ear. “I feel as though I’m going fall asleep again. You can keep reading, Snow Prince, but make sure to wake me up before you leave.”

Laurent nodded, but did not make a motion to open the book again until Damen’s eyes closed.

Even with closed eyes, the stimulus was almost unbearable. Damen could feel Laurent’s warmth, the expansion of his ribcage, and the rhythmic thudding of his heartbeat. He could smell the clean, linen smell of Laurent’s skin, and as Damen’s head nodded in exhaustion, his cheek pressed up against that silky fine hair.

When he awoke again, it was the middle of the night.

The oil burned low and dark orange in the lamps and there were no sounds of servants or nobles wandering about. The only sound was the crashing tide and Laurent’s soft breathing.

Damen moved very slowly.

At some point during the night, Laurent had fallen asleep, and his heavy head was resting securely in the hollow under Damen’s throat. Damen was holding him, both arms around wrapped around that slim waist, and Laurent’s right hand was rested on top of Damen’s hands. The other hand held his place in the book.

Despite the fact that he had not made love to _anyone_ in almost three years, Damen only felt the slightest twinge of arousal. Mostly what he felt was a warm adoration. It astonished him to realize that if he never ended up making love to Laurent and just held him like this, he would not mind at all.

He sat like this, holding Laurent, for several minutes before beginning to shift so that the two of them could lie down to sleep.

Deftly he scooped up the book without waking Laurent and looked to see what Laurent had fallen asleep reading. Now knowing Laurent’s true feelings, he had an inkling about what chapter it might be turned to…

Sure enough, the page was the beautifully illustrated final pages of The Snow Prince, where the lovers’ foreheads were pressed close together.

Damen felt like a whole human being again as he stretched out on his bed, cradling the man he loved. A kiss on the head and a gentle squeeze was as far as he went before feeling himself fall back to sleep.

“Good night, My Snow Prince.”

As he was closing his eyes, Damen swore he saw a smile on Laurent’s fine lips.

 

The first week and a half of Laurent’s time in Ios, Damen and Laurent fell back into their comfortable routine. With Auguste ‘busy’ most of the early morning, some afternoons, and every night, Damen and Laurent spent an incredible amount of time together.

They ate breakfast together on Damen’s balcony and talked ceaselessly of politics and new books, sea faring and astronomy, sports and their own future goals. Laurent was always quick with a new idea or a clever solution to problems, just as he had been in his letters, and Damen was often loath to tear himself away from their conversations. Afterwards, Damen would have to spend two or three hours in congress with his father and the kyroi, but Laurent often followed him. Though he was respectful of his status as a foreign guest, occasionally Laurent would make a witty comment or an astute observation in his lilting Akielon, and Damen felt what a skillful co-ruler he would make. The kyroi---who had all first thought him to be nothing more than a vapid, bookish beauty---had a healthy respect for his intelligence now.

After their meeting was adjourned, the two of them would go down to the practice grounds to spar and meet with Auguste, followed by a bath and a light lunch. Their one concession to modesty was that Damen and Laurent never bathed together. Damen remembered when Laurent last bathed with him, wet, pink, and aroused…probably by the sight of Damen’s naked body…and felt that it would be best for the both of them to bathe alone. As much as licking a moist Laurent appealed to him, he wanted the courtship to progress properly.

After being cleaned, Damen and Laurent would take a daily ride out of the city and through the countryside, admiring the lush farmlands and vineyards of Akielos. Laurent expressed interest in Akielon farming techniques and asked questions about the farming, irrigation, and crop prices as if he were a city merchant. Sometimes their conversations went on so long that they returned long after dinner had begun. If not, then they would spend an hour or two in the library.

And every night, without fail, Laurent would follow Damen to his quarters and the two of them would read together until they fell asleep. It was such a natural schedule and Damen was now beyond a shadow of a doubt that there could be no other that matched him so well as Laurent did.

So he decided to move forward even more.


	20. Year 19 (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EARLY UPDATE; SURPRISE, I couldn't wait any longer haha!  
> As far as this chapter I have two things to say:
> 
> 1\. I'm sorry.  
> 2\. You're welcome.

** Akielos: Year 19 (Part 2) **

To move forward, Damen held back.

He wanted to hear Laurent say he loved Damen. And so he decided to make Laurent as desperate as he had been at the end of his time in Arles and cool his passion. He began to avoid his Little Scholar.

He knew it was childish, but he would have given up speaking to hear those magical three words spill from Laurent’s lips. So, he enlisted the help of Isander and a very reluctant Auguste to keep Laurent busy enough for Damen to avoid. And he made himself _very_ scarce: no joint meals, no riding, no sparring, and he didn’t set foot in the library. Laurent was too blind to realize that Damen was dearly in love with him, so he wanted Laurent to acutely feel his absence.

And he still had one or two gifts left to give.

The only times they really saw each other was during the evening and Damen knew that beautiful profile well enough to notice the slight dark circles under those lovely blue eyes and the irritated set of his jaw.

The only thing that bothered Damen about the distance was Kastor.

Without his younger brother monopolizing the prettier Prince of Vere, Kastor had tried to insert himself into the empty space Damen had left. Only confidence in Laurent’s ability to protect himself made this development bearable for Damen.

He was discussing this with Auguste while the two of them soaked in the tub one afternoon.

“Your brother tried to gift him a golden pin this morning.” Auguste tried not to sound accusing, as he knew Damen hated it more than he did. “Laurent intends to return it, of course, and he is trying not to sound offended. Your brother is not exactly the picture of tact.”

“Oh, I know.” Damen tried to fight off rage.

“First of all, he sent it through Isander and I am sure he flirted with the young messenger quite relentlessly.” Laurent would have _hated_ that. “And considering the fact that in Vere you only give jewelry to pets as gifts…I doubt my brother would have liked that insinuation.”

Damen groaned audibly, raking his nails down his forehead. Curse Kastor for a fool, how could he not know about such _basic_ Veretian customs?

“My brother seeks to embarrass Akielos before everyone we know, I swear to god…”

“I wouldn’t know that feeling.” Auguste remarked sarcastically, sipping on a bit of white wine. “Welcome to the first fifteen years of my life with Laurent. But how long are you going to keep up this farce anyway? I know you hate being apart from him and that he has told me…”

Damen felt his eyes burning white hot as Auguste’s thoughts trailed off. “What has he told you?”

Auguste looked as though he debated on whether or not to tell Damen, but then decided he could not win against this lovesick madman. “Ughhh… If you breathe a word to Laurent that I told you this, I will fucking _end_ you. Understand? The other evening he confided to me---in his own roundabout way---that he misses spending time with you.” Damen looked elated and Auguste rolled his eyes. “I don’t see why you don’t just tell him yourself. My brother is insecure, god bless him, and I think he is too nervous and inexperienced to confess. Save yourself some heartbreak and just tell him how you feel. I tire of the two of you badgering me all the time.”

“He feels my absence?” Damen was dreamy with delight.

“Yes! God, will you quit looking so pleased with yourself? I will drown you in this bathtub! He misses you and he thought he was being cunning by managing to fall asleep on top of you each night. The two of you are so busy playing games, you make no progress.”

“Fine, fine.” Damen acquiesced. “I’ll move forward again.”

“Good,” Auguste closed his eyes and smoothed the water out of his hair, “I dislike seeing my brother so upset. Also you should talk to your brother about the proper way to treat my brother. I should hate to ruin Vere-Akielon relations over your slut of a brother, no offense.”

“None taken. Being a slut runs in the family.” Damen waved dismissively and his self-deprecating jab was rewarded with a laugh from Auguste. “But I will handle Kastor.”

Damen was, in fact, so furious that he decided to handle the matter that very day.

About thirty minutes before dinner, when Damen knew Kastor would be in his harem doing the one duty expected of him, Damen walked with purpose down the halls. He had a grim set to his mouth and a body tense with irritation so that no one would bother him on his way, and indeed servants practically dove out of his path. The weather outside was threatening a storm to match his mood.

He firmly knocked on the door as a grace to his brother---technically he did not have to do jack-shit---but he did not wait for any servants to open the door, but simply pushed his way inside.

Like a brothel, Kastor’s ‘servants’ were two topless female slaves who skittered backwards at the sight of Damen and bowed low.

He took it all in.

Damen rarely went to Kastor’s quarters but they vaguely reminded him of the halls of Arles, in that every inch was bedecked with some sort of finery in vivid contrast to Damen’s starkly bare rooms. It was a wise decision from King Theomedes that Kastor have an annual stipend separate from the royal treasury, or he would have drained Ios of gold within the year.

Jokaste, his wife in all but name, was sitting in one of the ornate armchairs and had obviously just been berating one of Timon’s governesses, who looked to be on the verge of tears. But Jokaste had composed herself and looked sleek and beautiful as usual. She extended both of her hands and Damen smiled indulgently.

“Sister,” He murmured, kissing both of her palms, “you look ravishing.”

Jokaste raised one pale eyebrow. Once upon a time, Damen and Kastor had actually been in a fierce competition for Jokaste’s affections. Her beauty was only matched by her ambition and in the end she had decided it was better to live in the lap of luxury, be mother to the king, and have the ear and balls of the more impressionable prince of Akielos in her hands than to be queen. If she regretted her decision in not choosing Damen, she never let it show.

“Damianos, how might I be of service to you?”

“I am looking for my brother. Is Kastor in?”

Only the slightest twinge of jealousy crossed her lovely features. Although she never let a murmur of protest pass her lips, Damen had the distinct feeling that she disliked Kastor’s polygamous ways and the three children he had gotten off other women in his harem.

“Oh…yes. I was wondering when someone from Vere would come to collect that little slave boy. I didn’t realize they would send someone as important as you.”

“Slave boy?” Damen instantly felt concerned.

“The Prince of Vere’s little slave? The one with dark eyes and long legs? I think he came to return something. They should be in through that door.” Jokaste sounded unconcerned, even a little amused that Laurent had turned down Kastor’s advances. But Damen was horrified.

God knew how long Isander had been in Kastor’s rooms, and Damen immediately rose to excuse himself. He did not even bother to knock this time.

If Damen had been furious with Kastor’s actions before, it was nothing compared to the all-encompassing rage he felt now, having entered Kastor’s sitting room and took in the scene unfolding inside.

The small, carved box that was set on one of the tables was obviously Laurent’s returned gift and it had been forgotten under the current circumstances. Two naked male slaves---who looked as though they had been interrupted in the middle of lovemaking---were sitting and giggling to themselves over what was going on; Damen noted with irritation that the both of them were lily-white with brownish-gold hair in a pitiful copy of Laurent’s looks.

Kastor too was naked, and normally that would not bother Damen. It was the fact that he was naked and had cornered Isander.

He was not on top of the young man, indeed, he was not even touching Isander, but he was close enough that Isander could not easily escape.

Isander had obviously not been invited to sit, as he was standing near a chair, his back pressed as close as possible against the wall. His head was bowed and hands were clasped in a sign of submission, but he was obviously on edge. His cheeks were burning red and when he looked up Damen saw his eyes were shiny and brimming with tears before he ducked his head back down.

“Kastor.” Damen spoke firmly and Kastor instinctively took two steps backward, out of Isander’s personal space.

At first, Kastor looked guilty, the same look he had as a child when he was caught ‘borrowing’ Damen’s possessions. But then his face became smooth and evidently delighted to see his brother. “Damianos, to what do I owe the visit? You rarely come to my quarters.”

As if nothing was the matter, Kastor seated himself easily in the vacant chair next to Isander. Isander flinched back a half step.

Damen tried to sound perfectly amiable. “I hope I’m not…interrupting anything.” The two reckless male slaves instantly fell silent and bowed their heads; as spoiled as they were under Kastor’s tutelage, they knew that Damen was furious. “I’ve come to discuss a matter of utmost importance with you and to retrieve something for the Prince of Vere. Isander,” Isander’s head snapped up and he was the very picture of relief, “Laurent has asked after you. Wait outside for me.”

“Of course.” To his credit, Isander did not let his voice tremble. “Exalted One.”

Kastor waved a hand dismissively, carelessly, as though he didn’t care that Isander was being called away, but Damen saw the predatory look in his brother’s eyes as he watched the young man’s hips and legs sway.

Damen noticed two clear drops hit the mosaic floors before Isander shut the door behind him. Then he turned to Kastor’s bedmates. “You two leave us as well.” They jumped to their feet without even looking to Kastor for permission; they knew very well who was in charge.

Then Damen and Kastor were alone.

Kastor tried to look unconcerned, but a lifetime spent together gave Damen the knowledge that he was on edge. But Damen’s temper had become more Veretian: less fiery, more controlled. He waited.

“So, brother, what did you---?“

“Put some clothes on.” Damen ordered in a voice like steel. Kastor hesitated but he finally relented and went to put on a silk robe. Then they waited.

When Damen did not make any motion to begin speaking, Kastor began chattering rapidly, as if to hide his nervousness. “It is such a waste, don’t you think? That such a fine, uncut diamond is holed up in the library. The prettiest servant in court is used as a messenger boy.” Isander was just as pretty as any other slave, but he was only so alluring to Kastor because he was unavailable. Kastor lightly flicked the returned box with his finger, trying not to appear annoyed. “There is something _liberating_ though about a challenge. And to have a pair of challenges, that is---.”

Damen found that he could listen to no more bullshit. “Kastor, shut up. I’m here to keep you from shaming yourself any more than you already have.”

Kastor’s cheeks flushed with anger. “How have I shamed myself?”

Damen had to resist the urge to slap his brother in the face. “By god, Kastor, I just caught you harassing a member of Prince Laurent’s retinue.”

“I simply asked him if he would like to join us. I know His Highness has given him leave to choose his lovers and why wouldn’t he appreciate the offer from his prince?” God, he was so stupid and cocky.

“Because he was once trained as a slave, he feels as though he cannot refuse you!’ Damen argued back. “By doing this you take advantage of his honor and loyalty to our family. You should not put others in such a difficult position. _Especially_ when he belongs to Prince Laurent.”

“I should get something for my efforts,” Kastor remarked sullenly, pushing at the rejected box again.

Damen wanted to scream at his selfishness. “Most of Kolnas’ slaves are at your disposal; leave Isander alone. That is my final word on the subject.” Although Kastor pouted, Damen continued. “Which brings me to the next issue I have with you. Do not send Prince Laurent any more of your gifts.”

Kastor actually stood at this, childishly knocking the wooden box off of his table. Something glittered under the table and Damen pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation.

“ _And why not_?”

“ _Because_ ,” Damen dug his fingernails into his palm to keep from digging them into Kastor’s eyes, “sending a Veretian person jewelry is an insult unless you are married. Otherwise it sends the message that you regard him as a slave.” The very thought was enough to make Damen irate.

Kastor had the grace to look embarrassed at this pronouncement. “Ah…my intentions were…erm, misconstrued.”

“I would certainly say so,” Damen hissed. “So, that is why I paid you this visit. Every year the envoy from Vere has come, you have gone out of your way to make Prince Laurent feel uncomfortable in our home and I worry how that will affect the image of Akielon hospitality. I want you to leave him alone Kastor. Stop sending him gifts, stop harassing his household, stop flirting with him over your wine. Oh, I’ve seen you, don’t try to deny it.” Kastor closed his mouth as he was indeed going to try and deny it. “I’ll only tell you this one time.”

Damen prepared to leave and let Kastor sulk on his own.

But Kastor did not want to leave it at that. He took hold of Damen’s arm but instantly let go when Damen turned back. A wise decision… “Why the fuck do you even care, Damianos? His Highness is a grown man, he could tell me this on his own.”

Damen grinned. He spoke in Veretian because he knew Kastor would not understand it.

“Because he’s _mine_.”

“What did you say?”

“I said, Prince Laurent says he does not share.”

And Damen walked smoothly out of the room and back into Kastor’s audience chamber. Isander stood, his wide eyes a little red, but Jokaste, who was filing her nails, did not look up at his reappearance.

“Exalted One,” Isander’s voice was watery.

“How did it go?” Jokaste cleared her wavy blonde hair from her eyes, attempting to sound disinterested. “I heard raised voices and assumed the worst. My husband is not used to people rebuffing his advances.” Isander looked as though he was biting back tears at this statement.

Damen, weak at sight of tears, kissed the top of Isander’s head reassuringly before turning his attentions to Jokaste. She was smiling wickedly.

“Perhaps this will teach him some humility, or maybe the sun will fall from the sky. Either way I daresay things will be much less eventful once that little Veretian slut leaves. Then I can stand to join conversations again. People talk of nothing else.” She said this lightly, almost playfully, but Damen felt that jealousy was not becoming of her.

Jokaste was very similar to Laurent in a few ways: they were both fair and beautiful, and they shared the same ambition and serpentine wit. But Laurent was more polished than Jokaste could ever dream to be. Laurent had been born into power and prestige; no matter how high she climbed or how many royal babies she put in the cradle, Jokaste at her core would always be a baseborn woman from the hinterlands who happened to be blessed with extraordinary beauty.

Damen thought all of this with wicked glee, but he dared not say it aloud. Jokaste would be severely affronted.

Instead, he simply smiled and kissed her proffered fingertips. “Acidity does not suit you, Sister. I think I speak for everyone when I say, the court would prefer your smiles and sweetness.”

Jokaste rolled her eyes but her cheeks flushed with delight. “Go on, you charmer. I would hate for the servants to talk. Go on and rescue that librarian.”

“I’ll see you at dinner.”

Then he steered Isander out of Kastor’s quarters, arguably even angrier than he had been before. But he had to push those emotions down as Isander began to sob as soon as they were in the hall.

“I-I’m sorry, Exalted One.” He put his face in his hands and tears trailed down his forearms. Damen clutched him by the shoulders and began to lead him down the halls. “H-His Highness asked me t-to take the box…b-back to…and g-give it to one of the servants. B-But when I was announced…h-he called me in and asked me if I wanted to…j-join in his bed. And I’m s-sorry but I didn’t want to. I know…I’m supposed to s-serve my p-princes but…I’m so sorry. I d-don’t want it. I didn’t know what to s-say!”

While Isander was sobbing, Damen was listening with gritted teeth.

When they passed an errant servant, Damen pulled her aside and quietly instructed her to find Laurent and Orlant and send them to Damen’s quarters. She took in the sight of hysterical Isander and took off at a run.

When they finally reached Damen’s darkened quarters, Damen no longer had to worry about his sense of propriety and roughly embraced Isander, letting the poor thing cling to him and cry. He patted that black wavy hair, pretending that it was silken and blond.

“I know, I know. You’re scared and embarrassed. You can rest easy.”

Despite Isander’s vehement, watery protests, Damen used his own clothes to wipe the tears and snot from his lovely face. Then he pulled him in close and began to rub his shaking back in an attempt to soothe him. This was how Orlant and Laurent found the two of them upon arriving in Damen’s quarters.

Damen bit his lip as Laurent took it all in, flint and pain rippling across his face.

Isander, looking up at their entrance, also realized the indecency of their current position and dropped to his knees, forehead pressed against the ground in a leftover habit from his former training. Despite Damen’s best efforts, it was clear Isander was crying again. It was hard to see Laurent’s expression in the darkness from the storm, but he crouched down next to his sobbing assistant and his voice was the very sound of gentleness.

He did not attempt to raise Isander’s head, but questioned him gently in Veretian. Orlant’s face was a smooth mask of apathy as Isander recounted what had happened in Kastor’s rooms. Laurent simply nodded.

“I am so sorry,” Isander gasped, “if I have shamed you…You need only say the word and I will…hasten back and apologize.” Laurent flinched; everyone in the room knew that if Isander were to return to Kastor, he would be pulled into bed. “Your Highness, please forgive me.”

Laurent placed one steady hand on Isander’s head. “It is your choice, my faithful servant. You have not shamed me and I have told you that you need not join anyone’s bed unless you desire it. Do you want to go back?” Isander shook his head without raising it. “Then do not go. Remember: you answer to me and none other. Raise your head, Isander.”

Isander complied and tearfully kissed both of Laurent’s wrists in a sign of ultimate thankfulness.

Gingerly, Laurent took him by the shoulders and helped him to his feet. Then he was coolly businesslike with all the force of a Veretian prince. “Orlant, I would like for you to take Isander to his quarters. I do not care if King Theomedes himself stops you; no one is to keep Isander from getting to his chambers. And Isander, if you choose to skip dinner and have it sent to your rooms, I understand and allow it. From now on you must remember, you answer to nothing but your own desires, and no one in this palace, save for me.”

Isander bowed low and Orlant merely inclined his head, before gently placing his hand on the small of Isander’s back and guiding him out into the hallway. Then Damen and Laurent were alone.

It was hard to judge Laurent’s expressions on the best of days. But with the darkness of the approaching summer storm and the lamps being unlit, Damen could only make out Laurent’s profile and not his expression. He was acutely aware that this would be the first time they had spoken alone in a few days. The silence was almost as thick as the stormy air.

“I apologize for my brother’s actions.” Damen broke the silence first. “He was out of line to Isander…and to you.”

Laurent exhaled. “You fool, I should thank you. Servitude is so ingrained in his soul he might have been coerced if you hadn’t intervened.”

Damen took a step forward and his heart sank a little as Laurent stepped back in turn. “Laurent…”

“It seems that no matter how defiantly I fight, the fates are determined to make sure I cannot protect people. How dearly I wanted Aimeric and Isander to avoid my fate.” Laurent’s hands were twisting around in themselves, a nervous habit left over from his childhood. “But consistently they are deprived of the choice of who they allow to…touch them.”

Damen moved forward with the intent to embrace Laurent but he was stopped by a pair of firm hands pressed against his chest.

When Laurent spoke again, his voice was faintly strangled, as if he could not stand to even speak aloud. “It is amazing. Somehow you always manage to…to be there. Heroic…I am sure Isander…would not be ill-matched with someone so… _helpful_.”

Damen mulled over this, having to think hard over the sound of steady rain.

Then it hit him.

The damn fool, this beautiful, intelligent, foolish man had done exactly as Auguste had predicted and could not see what was right in front of his very nose. What was more was that Laurent now believed that Isander and Damen had been locked in a passionate embrace. Damen wanted to shake some sense into him or kiss him until desire drowned out all other thoughts.

But he knew what he had to do.

Wordlessly, he took Laurent by the hand, deaf to any questions Laurent had, and began to lead him out the door and down the hallways.

Damen was tired of it all.

He was tired of Kastor’s inappropriate advances, tired of his own sleepless nights and of this game he had been playing with the younger son of Vere; he had promised Auguste he would court Laurent with grace and dignity, and now Damen was intent on never releasing this hand again.

By now Laurent had gone oddly silent and was allowing himself to be led down the wet tiled hallways to god knew what.

Damen stopped him in front of a nondescript door only a few paces down from the doors of Laurent’s own quarters. Laurent had probably not even noticed the door with the paltry amount of time he spent in his own rooms. Damen turned but he did not release Laurent’s hand.

“What…is this place?” Laurent seemed haggard, almost deflated.

After all the lovers he had seduced in front of Laurent, Damen was filled with wry amusement that a slave-turned-librarian would be the one to break Laurent’s heart. It was all for naught anyway.

“I promised you…” Damen responded kindly, before pushing in the door. “A smaller one off your main quarters.”

And then he pulled Laurent inside.

It took Damen only a moment to light the lamps and when Laurent’s eyes adjusted he had to lean against the doorframe in stark contrast to his usually unflappable nature. He closed his eyes as if he could not believe it.

Damen had spared no personal expense on this rotunda that he commissioned to be turned into a library. From the skylight and the mosaic ceilings depicting golden starbursts, to the fine furnishings and the floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with books, Damen had created this room with Laurent’s every enjoyment in mind. He had even carefully compiled the list of every one of Laurent’s favorite books in Arles and had copies made for this library. Though the storm roiled outside of the large picture windows, Damen was light in his heart as he fetched the key from the large desk situated nearby.

“This,” He extended the key to Laurent, “is the only key for this room and it locks from the inside. So,” He placed it in Laurent’s palm and closed his slender fingers around it, “no one aside from you can allow people in. Auguste and I cannot enter without your permission. Kastor…Govart…your uncle…none of them can enter. No one but you.”

Laurent’s fist shook around the key and when he looked up, he almost looked panicked. “Why? Damianos… _why_? You do all this for me…and ask _nothing_ in return? I don’t…understand. Why…do you do this for me?”

Gently, very gently, he took Laurent’s wrists in his hands and raised them to his cheeks. That way he could kiss the fine skin there and feel Laurent’s hammering pulse beneath.

Damen smiled. He was the Crown Prince of Akielos and he hated to lose. But he had met his match and found someone he was willing to lose against.

“Because I am in love with you.”

Damen noticed that Laurent’s eyes became positively enormous, but he continued on, letting almost three years worth of feelings come out: “The reason I give you these libraries and your horse and ask nothing in return is because it gives me joy to see you happy. The reason I took no lovers in Arles and none in Ios is because I love you more than all the others combined. I love you ardently, Laurent of Vere, my Little Scholar, and I’m of the mind to never love anyone else ever again. But…if your feelings are not the same then…” He reluctantly let go of Laurent’s hands, “then I will respectfully distance myself. I will _never_ force you or pursue you again if you don’t reciprocate. You need only say the word.”

Laurent seemed frozen, eyes wide and mouth half open in shock.

Damen waited for a moment and then inclined his head, mostly to hide his smile. When he raised his head it took considerable effort to look somber. “I see…I will take your silence as your answer. Do not worry: I will leave you in peace.”

But as Damen was halfway out the door, he heard the sharp clatter of iron striking tile floors followed by,

“ _Damianos, wait!_ ”

Damen felt two slim hands wrap around his bicep, pulling him firmly backwards and he needed no further invitation. With the ease of an athlete, Damen spun on his heel, pulling the door shut behind him and then looked down at the one he loved.

He sucked in breath at the sight of Laurent.

Six years he had known Laurent; he had seen him grow from a lonely, distrustful, and wickedly smart boy to a confident, protective, (but still) wickedly smart man. Damen had been with him when he was delighted, thoughtful, fearful, upset, and angry. He had taught Laurent to swim and fight and feel comfortable in his own home and trust other humans with his thoughts, even though it was usually in written form. He had rescued this beloved person from a monster and comforted him, believed him when no one else in his own court would. Damen had provided him with friendship in Ios and Arles.

But one thing he had never seen from Laurent in all their time together.

His Snow Prince, his Little Scholar _never_ let anyone see him cry.

But as Damen looked down at that beautiful face that haunted his dreams, it was in utter amazement, as Laurent was staring up at him, tears running down his fine cheeks.

“Damianos! I…”

Somewhere within that span of breath, upon seeing those loveliest of tears, Damen’s self-restraint burned away to ash and he was gripping those slippery, wet cheeks in his hands. And Laurent’s mouth was half-open, just like in his dreams, and his wet, golden eyelashes began to close in anticipation…

“…love---.”

Damen did not let him finish his sentence. Over the sound of heavy rain, he leaned his head down and kissed, deep and hungry, and Laurent sighed as if, for the first time in his life, he had finally relaxed.


	21. Year 19 (Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so it is pretty safe to say that the angst is pretty much done at this point and it's going to be a lot of fluff! In fact, there's going to be fluff in EVERY CHAPTER from here on out so the sexual tag begins now (though it's very light in this chapter) ;)  
> By the way, Auguste's first line of dialogue in this chapter might be my favorite line in this entire story. 
> 
> (TW: Talk of past sexual assault)

** Akielos: Year 19 (Part 3) **

Damen had to remember to breathe, as his mind was hazy with utter ecstasy. It was almost like a dream, kissing Laurent. His hands moved from Laurent’s cool, soaked cheeks to the spot under his burning hot ears; he cupped Laurent’s skull in his huge hands and dug his fingers into that beautiful, silky hair. It was like everything he had ever imagined and more…

He did not kiss Laurent too deeply, as he longed to do, because Laurent was obviously a novice when it came to kissing. His teeth bumped against Damen’s lips more than once and he seemed barely able to relax. The most Damen did was lap Laurent’s upper lip with the tip of his tongue as he pulled away. Damen was pleased to note that even this innocent kissing had absolutely wrecked Laurent.

His blond hair was pleasantly mussed, his cheeks flushed, and lips glossy and gasping for air.

Damen could not stand it; he had to get another taste.

He openly kissed Laurent’s exposed neck, sucking a little on the skin there. It tasted as sweet at the first swallow of fresh milk and Laurent made a little noise of pleasure, a hum deep in his throat, as Damen’s tongue explored that creamy expanse.

Damen separated his lips with a satisfying smack. Then he smiled down at his lover. It sent a shiver through his spine: Laurent was his lover.

He had work to do. Damen grasped Laurent’s hand and began to lead him to one of the chairs in the center of the library. To his surprise, Laurent balked and actually looked a little nervous. Damen grinned indulgently.

“Laurent, my Snow Prince, I’m not going to going to bed you and love you silly… _yet_. I just want to talk a little.” His voice came out raspier than he had intended.

“J-Just talking?”

“I swore to you I’d never force you.” Damen shrugged, “I wouldn’t be opposed to kissing some more but that’s up to you.”

Laurent bowed his head to hide his deep blush and allowed himself to be led to an overstuffed armchair. He looked about to protest as Damen sat and then looked at his lap expectantly, but he did not get a chance as Damen pulled him forward. Laurent blushed even deeper as he found himself straddling Damen’s lap, facing a very pleased Damen.

“Oh look, you’re finally the same height as me.” Damen teased.

“Go to hell!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Damen amended, gently prying Laurent’s hands off of his face. “Let’s just…I have a lot of questions.” When Laurent refused to remove his hands Damen began to coax. “Come now…I can’t kiss you like this…” Laurent was both shy and pouting as he lowered his hands and Damen relished kissing him on his cheeks as a reward. “Now…before I _rudely_ interrupted you earlier, what were you saying?”

Laurent barely seemed to believe it himself. “It cannot be…you are in love with my brother!”

Damen leaned his head back in exasperation. “My god! I was in love with Auguste four years ago! How many times must I say it until you believe me?” He curled a lock of Laurent’s hair behind his ear. “He is my dearest friend…but he cannot hold a candle to the way I feel about you. Don’t you love me?”

“I…do…” Laurent whispered reluctantly and Damen felt as though his heart was shivering. “I have…ever since I was fifteen.” He leaned his cheek into Damen’s hand. “When you…came and saved me.”

It was honestly the most Damen had ever heard Laurent speak in one sitting, and he could have gotten drunk off of the sound of his beloved’s voice, not to mention the wonderful things he was saying.

It was exactly as Auguste had said. Laurent admitted, hesitantly, that it was Damen’s first gift that had caused him to fall in love: the feeling of safety Damen had provided, including the lessons in swordplay. Laurent was reluctant to say, but Damen drew it out of him with soft kisses and loving whispers, that he had mistaken Damen’s intimacy with Auguste for the vestiges of love. He had watched Damen bed countless men and never look at him twice, only teasing him and apparently feeling pity for his situation while writing, which had been a bitter pill to swallow. And _very_ shyly, Damen finally got Laurent to confess that he was so insecure and had been told so often within earshot, that he did not believe that anyone could ever fall in love with someone with so difficult a personality.

To this, Damen felt a fury growing deep in his gut over the poisonous bastards in Arles and then decided he would spend ample time assuring Laurent he was loveable, in his own unique way

“And you never suspected with my gifts?” Damen asked.

Laurent actually looked embarrassed at this. “I thought…it was just something you did for a beloved younger brother. The book was probably the closest I came to believing…I had a chance. But, then I thought maybe it was just Isander trying to give me hope.”

“It was frustrating.” Damen agreed. “I could see your feelings but you refused to break down and tell me, no matter how ardently I courted you.”

Laurent’s eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t _you_ just tell me?”

“I did! You forced my hand! Well…that debacle with Kastor and Isander did.”

“I win; I’m more stubborn.”

Damen glowed and stroked the length of Laurent’s cheeks. “I love that about you…”

Laurent was scarlet. “You say such shameless things…”

Laurent was decidedly out of his element when it came to being loved, and Damen was overjoyed at the prospect of teasing him and spoiling him in turns. “Speaking of shameless things, I have a few matters to discuss with you now that you are my lover. My _only_ lover.” Laurent’s ears burned but Damen longed to scream it throughout the halls of Arles.

“Does it have to do with our bedding arrangements?” Laurent actually looked a little nervous. To keep his hands from twisting in on themselves, Damen took them in his own and meticulously kissed each fingertip.

“I know…what has happened to you, my Laurent.”

Laurent bit his lip and looked down. “I…dislike this topic of conversation…”

“I know,” Damen amended. “But as your _lover_ ,” (god, it was so satisfying to say), “I intend to love you properly. I can already tell I will have the honor of teaching you how to kiss; but I…” He cupped Laurent’s face tenderly, “I need to know if you have any other experience…so I don’t hurt you or scare you.”

“I…understand. I will try to overcome my discomfort…”

“You have never been kissed?”

“Never…don’t you laugh! As hard as some of your countrymen tried in the past, I have never been properly kissed until this very evening.” Laurent regarded him suspiciously and Damen had to try very hard not to become aroused.

“Do you have any positive experiences?”

He was treading on very thin ice here. Although he knew Laurent had been the victim of Govart’s attempted rape and his own uncle had assaulted him, Damen did not know the extent of Laurent’s experiences. He was determined never to repeat their actions.

“It’s… _disgusting_ …”

Damen pulled him close, embracing him. “You’re not dirty. I have no false impressions of you. And I love you no matter your past. I will… _cherish_ you.”

Haltingly Laurent gave an unemotional and---thankfully---short list of all the ‘experience’ he possessed after nineteen years. “I had wine before, thank god, so my memory is not the best. But mostly it was just… _touching_. Once, before Auguste found out, I was made to…with my mouth. But that’s it.”

Damen sighed in relief. Any more and he might have ridden to Arles for murder.

“I see. I understand. Thank you for trusting me.” He smiled at Laurent reassuringly, inwardly thanking him for dredging up such painful reveries. “From now on, things will be different. I will ask your permission before every act or you can ask me for it. If anything hurts you or causes you fear, I will cease immediately; I am a slave to your pleasure.”

Laurent, obviously moved by Damen’s announcement, took the initiative and kissed the spot where Damen’s artery met his jaw. The spot felt as though it had been branded.

Laurent’s pale eyelashes fluttered and he looked up, at once a coquette and a virgin.

Damen felt the uneven beat of his heart and he took Laurent’s cheeks in his hands, his expression turning into one of affected austerity. He made sure Laurent was gazing into his eyes, “If it pleases Your Highness, I’d like to begin our first lesson immediately, if possible.”

“Dinner?” Laurent asked softly, though he moved his face closer.

“Fuck dinner.”

Damen had to give it to Laurent: he was a stunning pupil, in more ways than one.

The first lesson in kissing began with solemn instruction from Damen to relax and trust him, as he had the experience to make Laurent very skillful indeed. So Laurent was delightfully open and willing under Damen’s careful ministrations. With one rough thumb, Damen nudged Laurent’s lips open and stroked his petal-soft bottom lip. Laurent closed his eyes at the feeling.

Damen licked and nibbled a pale earlobe in response to his arousal. “For deep kisses…open your mouth just a little.”

Damen was almost reverent when he took Laurent’s lips again, getting a deep taste of something he had only been able to dream of before. Laurent was stiff with his own inability and actually jumped when Damen’s tongue darted inside his mouth for a moment.

Damen pulled away for a split second, eyes wanting badly to close so that he could just _feel_. “Try to relax, my Laurent. Kisses are about… _wanting_.”

Laurent’s eyes were glassy just from such a small amount and Damen could not wait to get him addicted to this.

He dove back in with relish, the very tip of his tongue toying with Laurent’s half-open mouth. One hand snaked to the back of Laurent’s neck, right below the nape, and pulled his head closer, while the other arm coiled around Laurent’s slim waist to pull his whole body close. Chest to chest, lip to lip, hip to hip they were connected and Laurent helplessly fastened his hands in Damen’s black hair.

“Watch your teeth,” Damen advised breathlessly. “Soften them with your lips and try to copy my movements.”

He could not give any further instruction because Laurent wanted more and he wanted to showcase his skill as a quick learner. Though underdeveloped in skill, he more than made up for it in enthusiasm and Laurent’s cool, hesitant tongue began to explore. Damen could barely sit still for excitement.

So while Laurent put to good use his first lesson in kissing, Damen gently, almost imperceptibly, began to move his hips in circles so that his crotch and thighs could feel what his tutoring had aroused. The hand that had pushed Laurent forward now gently pushed him down to feel the careful ministrations and Damen smiled as he felt Laurent squirm a little.

He did not feel the need to divulge such information, but Damen had been known to bring a man to the height of pleasure using little more than his knee and deep kisses.

When Laurent finally pulled away his lips were swollen and glossy and his blush had taken on a pink, erotic tone. Then he smiled, delighted and innocent, in a way that Damen would see in his daydreams for ages, and rested his head against Damen’s chest. Damen held him and liberally planted kisses on every inch of bare, white skin he could reach.

“Look at how sweet you are…Did you like your first kiss, my Snow Prince?”

He fully expected Laurent to snap back with one of his witty, barbed replies, but was pleasantly surprised when Laurent glanced up, as sweet as god had ever made a man. “It was…beyond my dreams. I didn’t know…it could be so tender…” Damen was struck that most of Laurent’s experience with sexuality had been forced. “But don’t say ‘ _my_ Snow Prince’.”

“ _And_ there it is.” Damen laughed. “There’s the Laurent I know and love.”

Laurent flushed at the mention of love. “I’m not yours; I’m mine and nobody else’s.”

“I got it,” Damen assured though he was actually lost in remembering the feeling of taking Laurent’s first kiss. “But it still doesn’t change the fact that I love you and I want you.”

Laurent could not handle someone loving him so fiercely. “Don’t be so cocky…”

Damen ignored the jab and began lavishing attention on Laurent’s slim fingers. This was the part he liked best about having a lover: touching them to ecstatic helplessness. Laurent was well controlled; only his earlobes showed sign of Damen’s efforts making any effect. He fully intended to love Laurent into ripeness, to slowly teach him the secret delights of being loved and licked and touched, and---when his lust was about to burst out of his skin like the juice of perfectly ripe fruit---he was going to love Laurent properly. And only Damen would know the sweetness of Vere. “Well, I have every right since I have the finest student in four kingdoms…”

Laurent wet his lips and cocked his head in a way that was meant to hide his shyness, but ended up being devastatingly sexy. “Are we to…have a second lesson…tonight?”

Damen literally had to shift himself to hide the fact that his erection was as stiff as an iron stake. Even in his wildest dreams, he never imagined Laurent asking him sweetly for more kisses and he was more than happy to oblige.

Books, storm, dinner, Auguste, Isander, Kastor, Akielos, Vere…all was forgotten as Damen leaned closer to his Snow Prince and Laurent’s eyes were half-closed. Damen ran his thumb over Laurent’s lips and his mouth parted.

“Stick out your tongue, Snow Prince.”

 

When Damen woke up the next morning, his first feeling was that his lips and tongue felt swollen and numb. The air was fresh with the smell of drying rain and he felt like liquid sunlight, he was so warm. Contented, Damen opened his eyes _very_ slowly.

There was a small noise of delight, almost like a coo.

When Damen’s eyes focused in the light of the early morning, he thought he could die happy at that very moment.

At the feeling of Damen moving, a still-sleeping Laurent squeezed him a little tighter and mewled again, deep in his chest. Though both fully clothed, the two of them were practically braided together, legs tangled and hands clutching each other tightly. Damen thought this might have been the sweetest sight he had ever seen, but he also remembered that Laurent had only fallen asleep after being kissed into a near-drunken stupor. Even with numb lips, Damen kissed him tenderly on the forehead.

He could have stared all morning, but Laurent must have felt the change in Damen’s breathing or felt him shifting because his eyelashes began to flutter and he opened his eyes. Damen smiled in spite of himself.

At first Laurent looked sweetly confused, for a moment unsure of where he was, but then he caught sight of Damen. Instantly he flushed and pressed his face into Damen’s chest to hide his delighted smile.

Damen shifted down so their heads were right next to each other.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” He murmured reverently; ‘sweetheart’ was the one pet name they had decided on as adequate, as Laurent had debased the others as disgustingly sweet or unspeakably erotic. “Did you sleep well?”

“I thought…it was a dream…”Laurent’s voice was muffled in Damen’s sleeping shirt as he was too shy to look up.

“Would you like me to pinch you?”

Laurent’s head shot up as Damen’s hands inched toward his ass. “Don’t you _dare_!” He laughed as Damen took on an air of affected innocence and raised his hands in the air. “My god…sleeping on you is like sleeping on a dry riverbed.”

Damen flexed his muscular abdomen in response. “Then why do you insist on sleeping on me?”

Laurent ducked down again, shielding his expression in a way Damen now knew was what he did when he was simultaneously elated and bashful. “Because…you are…so very warm.”

Resisting the urge to squeal like a teenage maiden, Damen wrapped his arms and legs around Laurent’s body like a vise and squeezed him. Laurent’s protests were muffled as Damen began rolling around in the bedsheets, squeezing Laurent in the utmost delight. Even though he had admitted that sleeping on top Damen was uncomfortable, Laurent _still_ spent the night wrapped in his arms. He never wanted to leave this bed.

“I…cannot _breathe_!” Laurent complained when Damen finally let him up for air.

Damen rolled over so that he was on top of Laurent, his silken black curls gently brushing against Laurent’s forehead. Laurent gasped before he could catch himself, and even after he had regained some of his composure, his breathing was ragged in comparison to his normal nonchalance. Damen ran his lips down the bridge of Laurent’s nose.

“You had no complaints about lack of breath last night…”

Damen’s voice came out a little raspy and he gently cupped Laurent’s head in his hands. Laurent’s blue eyes flicked for just the briefest moment down to Damen’s lips and then his eyes became heavy-lidded and he dutifully parted his mouth.

Damen could barely take it, seeing the results of his patient teaching, and he reclaimed those lips with joy.

“I…have not even rinsed my mouth,” Laurent said, half-accusingly once Damen had gotten his fill. Laurent was fastidiously clean and Damen had sort of gotten the idea as to why, but it didn’t matter. Damen liked his lovers to taste like themselves.

“Mmmm…what a waste,” And then he began kissing Laurent in between each word. “Tastes like…” _kiss,_ “rosewater” _kiss_ , “apricots” _kiss_ , “slight hint of…” _kiss,_ “lemon peel?”

Laurent was positively crimson. “You are fucking ridiculous. Let me up.”

Damen rolled off of his Snow Prince, allowing him to get out of bed and began to admire his lean form. The morning sun shone through Laurent’s thin cotton pajamas and Damen was extremely pleased with the view. “Remember: you’re the one who fell in love with me!”

Laurent did not deign to answer as he padded off to locate a pitcher of water and the crushed mint paste he used to cleanse his mouth.

It was only twenty minutes into the morning and already it was the most perfect day.

When Laurent came back, he hesitated sweetly in the doorway that separated the main bedchamber from the baths. It appeared that in addition to cleaning his mouth, he had also smoothed his mussed hair and washed his face. He seemed delightfully unsure of what to do, so Damen decided to tease him.

“You shouldn’t have. You know I’m just going to mess you up?”

Laurent’s eyes narrowed in response, clearly a challenge.

So when Auguste knocked and entered Damen’s quarters a few moments later, he groaned aloud at the sight of the two people he loved most being so heartily ridiculous. Damen had caught Laurent---none too easily, as the chase was one of the more thrilling aspects---and now the two of them, flushed and breathless, were caught up in an unmistakable lovers’ embrace, dead to the world.

“I had thought,” Auguste began tartly, biting back a snort of laughter at their shock, “to ask the two of you to eat in my rooms. But it appears the two of you are having _tongue_ for breakfast.”

Damen could barely speak from embarrassment and laughter and Laurent hid from his brother’s gaze.

“Well met, Auguste.” Damen finally said, steering Laurent in front of him so that he could pull him close. “Breakfast sounds nice. I suppose we’ll have some explaining to do, won’t we?” Laurent seemed too flustered to respond.

“Oh spare your breath,” Auguste responded in fake irritation. “I knew something was amiss when the two of you didn’t show up at dinner last night. I also enjoy watching the two of you squirm.” His normal, bright smile split wide across his face. “As if I could be anything less than happy.”

“Brother, you are a scorpion.” Laurent seemed angry, but he ran over for a quick embrace, which Auguste willingly gave.

“And you look fresh as can be, my brother.”

Damen stood where he was, smiling to himself over his emotions. As illogical and irrational a feeling as it was, he found himself jealous of Auguste. Now knowing that Laurent loved him, Damen was fiercely envious of anyone who touched Laurent…even his own brother.

“Damianos?”

He jerked out of his own thoughts and was met by two curious pairs of blue eyes. Then Laurent trotted over to him and wound his hand through Damen’s. He shuddered in utter happiness.

Laurent had officially declared before his brother, his world, that he was willingly with Damen.

“Shall we go to breakfast?”

To everyone in Akielos, save a very select few, Damen and Laurent did not appear to act any different than normal. Only the few who knew them very well seemed to notice that Laurent’s smiles came sweeter and with much more frequency, or that Damen seemed barely able to restrain some unspoken happiness, or that the two of them never seemed far from one another, orbiting each other like satellites.

To Damen and Laurent, their joy seemed almost illicit as they attempted to conceal their feelings from all of Ios while still managing to go about their day together. They were perfectly civil and aloof towards each other at breakfast, much to Auguste’s suspicion. But Auguste did not notice the one time Damen lightly brushed his warm knuckles across Laurent’s exposed knee under the table, causing Laurent’s pulse to pump rapidly in his neck. And if Auguste noticed that Laurent trailed the very tips of his fingers across Damen’s nape as he passed, he made no comment.

During their meeting with the kyroi, Damen and Laurent were straight-faced and businesslike as usual…while their hands lightly touched under the table. While sparring they must have seemed extraordinarily clumsy to the casual onlooker as they constantly bumped into one another. Despite all of this, Damen and Laurent still refused to bathe together. It would be too much at once.

However, all bets were off on their daily ride.

There was an unspoken need between the two of them, such to the point that they didn’t even speak until they had ridden well outside the walls of Ios.

The moment they reached farmland---a villa near a peach orchard to be exact---Damen reined his horse and dismounted immediately. He expertly tied the reins to one of the wooden beams of the fence and turned quickly, heat in his veins.

Laurent hesitated, lifting himself up onto the balls of his feet, and Damen could not help but notice that the ride had given him a pleasant color and mussed his normally smooth gold hair. He wondered what his Snow Prince would look like after riding something more… _pleasurable_.

Damen needed only to open his arms invitingly and Laurent shuffled forward in apparent nonchalance. But he sprinted the last few feet and Damen enfolded him in his arms.

Even just abstaining for most of the morning had made them both hungry for intimacy.

“Damianos,” Laurent gasped when Damen gave him a moment to breathe. “You fool, we’re in the road.” When Damen only smiled in response and leaned back into to suckle Laurent’s bottom lip, Laurent pushed him away, laughing in disbelief. “Stop, stop, you madman!” Then a whisper and glance toward the villa. “What if someone sees?”

Damen grinned and licked his lips. “Then I’m sure they’ll be filled with jealousy over the fact that I am kissing you and they are not.”

“You are utterly ridiculous.” Laurent said accusingly, though he blushed and did not attempt to move away.

“If you cannot be ridiculous with the one you love,” Damen responded, clearing strands of hair from Laurent’s forehead, “then you are in love with the wrong person.”

Laurent’s eyes were glittering with a challenge. “You are too much of a brute to philosophize.”

Damen twisted his lips. “And you talk _entirely_ too much. I prefer action.”

Still, Damen was nothing if not an accommodating lover. He helped Laurent over the wooden fence to the relative privacy under one of the lush green peach trees. Then Damen leaned his back against the sturdy trunk. He longed to press Laurent up against the tree, but he knew Laurent well enough to know that he disliked being pinned and unable to escape. So he opened his arms yet again.

Laurent tried his very best to look unconcerned, but Damen knew the beat beneath his skin would be rabbit-quick. “What kind of…actions did you have in mind?”

Damen smiled at the thought of all the lewd jokes he would be hearing for the next week or so and the chagrined expression on Auguste’s face, not to mention Laurent’s pleasure. It would be priceless…

“May I mark you?” Damen asked. He made sure to ask permission for every action he took, to prevent Laurent from doing anything he disliked.

“I suppose?” Laurent tried to sound confident.

Damen needed no further invitation. One hand cupped the back of Laurent’s neck while the other pushed gently against his lower back. His lips nuzzled against Laurent’s milky collarbone and Damen felt his breath catch. Lips and tongue pressed tight against the white skin, sucking softly but in earnest, and Damen relished every twitch it elicited from his cool lover.

After a short while, Damen pulled back to admire his handiwork and Laurent flushed when he caught sight of the perfect red circle blossoming right below his right collarbone.

“What have you done to me?”

Damen was astonished. “Have you lived your whole life in that whorish court of Arles and _never_ seen a love bite?”

“I’ve lived my life in Arles,” Laurent responded tartly, “and noticed that our clothes provide significantly more coverage than this.” He motioned to his short riding tunic and Damen was more than pleased to look. “Why is it still here?”

“Ahh…well…it takes a few days to disappear.”

“ _Excuse me_?”

Damen quickly tried to make amends without bursting into laughter. “It’s…a love bite, it felt good didn’t it?” His pink ears assured Damen that it had. “It just takes some time to fade. At least I put it in a place where you can cover it with your chiton.”

Laurent narrowed his eyes but then relaxed into an expression of beguiling good humor. “How kind. But if you wish to teach me, I’ll need some practice…” He eyed Damen’s half-bare chest with a strategic eye.

Damen liked this: baiting Laurent into being deliciously bold.

As he gently demonstrated the proper procedure on Laurent’s bottom lip, Damen couldn’t help but quake with excitement. Excitement over the idea of Laurent’s lips on his skin, of that cool tongue sucking him, and of violet-red blossoms blooming wild and brazen on his whole body.


	22. Year 19 (Part 4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm going to be really busy Sunday and I might not have time to update, so you guys get another early update!  
> Holy hell we are at 100,000 words!!! That is 2 novel lengths worth and I can't believe you guys have read it all! You guys are awesome!  
> Damen and Laurent are starting to get handsy with each other, so be forewarned: there is some smut in this chapter and the next few chapters. But there is still plenty of plot as well ;)  
> Enjoy!

 

** Akielos: Year 19 (Part 4) **

When Damen reappeared in his own palace with love bites all over his neck and chest, the reactions were exactly as he had expected. Auguste simply rolled his eyes when he saw Laurent’s handiwork. Damen’s loyal soldiers were far less civil, hooting and hollering when they saw his normally unmarred, coppery skin bruised reddish-purple. Most of them still thought Laurent a frigid bitch, so Damen got quite a few questions as to which little hellcat managed to cure him of his dry streak, none of them for a moment suspecting Laurent.

Laurent remained cool and impassive, with his singular bite hidden, and Damen was vague. Laurent was secretive with his thoughts and might not like anyone to know he had a ‘weakness’, so Damen kept their relationship secret.

Besides, he did not want these men to imagine Laurent kissing and sucking, flushed under the dappled shade of a peach tree, and sitting lightly astride Damen when he had had his wicked way with most of Damen’s front…

Loving Laurent was a delicacy he guarded jealously.

“I hope you don’t think I am ashamed of being with you.” Damen explained later in the library.

Laurent was busy rearranging the books to an order of his liking and Damen was _so_ pleased that he wore an informal, short tunic that day. Bending over and stretching to reach the highest shelves caused the skirt to rise high on Laurent’s milky thighs. He was entranced.

“It is a shame.” Laurent’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “I was desperately hoping for another excuse for people to talk about me behind my back.”

“And what a pretty back it is.” Damen responded admiringly. Laurent gave him a long look over his shoulder.

“You are unashamedly biased.”

“And I dislike people talking rudely of the one I love.”

It was the right thing to say. Laurent’s ears flamed as scarlet as Damen’s chest, probably as he remembered Damen’s dislike of Veretian gossip in the past as well as him kicking Laurent out of his rooms to leave his honor unstained.

“Typical hot-headed Akielon…” Laurent tried to look unconcerned, but unfortunately for him, Damen was a pro at seeing through his thinly veiled attempts to deflect the conversation.

Laurent jumped a little as Damen sidled up behind him, one hand on Laurent’s hip, the other pushing some high books into place. “You have no idea. It’s mostly discouraged now, but if we lived in ancient times and I heard someone talk of you crudely…I’d have to challenge them to a duel over your honor. And I’d win.”

Laurent snorted at his bravado. “And now? Now that you can’t decimate most of the men of your court?”

Damen gently kissed a pale earlobe. “Oh sweetheart…I’d simply send you in to deal with them.” Laurent began to shake with laughter. “A man recovers from a beating, but my cargomaster and Kolnas still speak of you as though you attempted to poison their families.”

Laurent was laughing hard now and Damen was so delighted at the sight that he began to kiss Laurent’s bare shoulders.

“Speaking of your long-suffering cargomaster,” Laurent said after his laughter had subsided, “are we to go to Isthima next month? I’ve heard of no plans recently.”

“Ah, no. Usually we go in the second month of the summer, but unfortunately the frequency of storms has been higher. The captain does not think it advisable to go with the weather so volatile.” When Laurent’s mouth downturned slightly in disappointment, Damen rushed to finish his thought. “But don’t worry! We’ll simply go the month following! Though it will be humid as all hell…”

“I cannot believe it’s been three years since I was last there…”

“I cannot believe you were in love with me then…” It seemed so long ago, and looking back Damen could only feel love himself. “You even managed to fall asleep on me…somehow.”

Laurent quirked his mouth up in a satisfied little grin. “Most of the time I wasn’t asleep.”

A rush of excitement shot up from Damen’s pelvis to his heart so that everything throbbed. He was so delighted it was hard to speak, but he knew now how to respond to Laurent: with his own clever quips. “Typical sly Veretian...” Laurent grinned in satisfaction and Damen rested his chin on Laurent’s shoulder. “Quickly choose a book! That way you can sit on the most pleasurable seat in Akielos,” Laurent rolled his eyes but his ears couldn’t lie, “and I will do everything in my power to prevent you from reading it.”

“I am trying to organi---mmmphmmm!”

Laurent had whipped his head around in irritation, but the sight of his lovely, annoyed face was too much for Damen. He shallowly kissed Laurent on the lips, hushing his words.

When Damen pulled back, he kissed each of Laurent’s pink cheeks. “To think I’d be jealous of books…”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Laurent chastised as Damen went over to one of the chairs to sit and pout. “By god, if you are jealous of books I would hate to think of the level of your jealousy when it comes to me interacting with people.”

He said this jokingly but Damen actually thought it over seriously. He did have a possessive personality and he was actually irrational enough to sometimes wish he could cut off the hands of people who touched Laurent in a way he didn’t like.

“As if you’ve never been---.”

Damen was about to say ‘jealous’, but then it struck him. He was acutely aware then of how many people he had bedded during Laurent’s fifteenth and sixteenth year. He remembered a limber honey-colored soldier that he had carried out of a bathroom after being fucked senseless and wondered what Laurent had felt in that moment. He must have felt utterly and helplessly jealous seeing the one he loved bed another so thoroughly.

Damen might have been ashamed had he not been so aroused at the thought of Snowy Laurent burning with envy.

He contented himself with simply watching Laurent and reflecting on his past transgressions until Laurent had arranged the shelf to his liking. Then he selected a few slim volumes and meandered over to where Damen was sitting. He made a fine show of pretending to deliberate where to sit until Damen snatched him by the waist and pulled Laurent onto his lap.

“I may be dramatic…but I won’t let anyone else touch you if you don’t like it, _sweetheart_.” Damen grinned, squeezing Laurent close. “Now what am I distracting you from this evening?”

Laurent twisted his lips and then pressed one of his thumbs firmly into Damen’s bruised chest.

 

A week and a half after Laurent’s first lesson in his own library, he had showed his prowess as the finest scholar in four kingdoms and had become one of the finest kissers Damen had ever had the pleasure of tasting. Perhaps it was because Damen was his first (and _last_ ) kiss and he was very adept at doing the things Damen liked or maybe it was because he tasted as sweet and cool as the first crop of green grapes. But most likely it was because Laurent glowed with enthusiasm when Damen praised his skills. He tried to hide it, but Damen could tell Laurent truly wished to impress him.

Although they moved slower than any lover Damen had taken before, Laurent was progressing quite naturally of his own desires. Though he was nervous and inexperienced, he had a natural hidden sweetness to him and the voracious curiosity of a Veretian virgin.

Of course Damen did his best to ask Laurent for permission to do anything new, Laurent hesitantly pushed their boundaries.

Such was the case in their bedroom.

Damen awoke to the familiar rumble of thunder and found his room in complete darkness. It was still the middle of the night, a storm was rolling in, and---most alarming---his arms were empty.

He sat up and looked around wildly, though it took his eyes a moment to adjust in the darkness. When he saw the only pulse of alabaster leaning across his balcony, Damen sighed in relief and padded over to join his prince. Laurent had a sheet wrapped around his shoulders to ward off the chill of the sea breeze and his golden hair was whipped wildly around his face in direct contrast to his smooth expression.

Laurent could now feel the heat of Damen’s skin before they even touched and he turned just enough to glance at Damen before returning his eyes to the sea.

“Snow Prince, you’re so cold.” Damen remarked as he kissed Laurent’s cool ear and wrapped his arms around Laurent’s shoulders to draw him into his warmth.

“How appropriate.”

Damen nuzzled his nose into Laurent’s windswept hair. “Could you not sleep?”

“Mmmm…” Laurent leaned back into Damen’s chest. “It was…the thunder woke me. And when I opened my eyes, the lamps had burned out.” Perhaps realizing that he revealed a bit of his inner core, Laurent tried to change the subject. “Besides, I wanted to watch the storm roll in. We don’t get such violent ones in Arles.”

Damen refused to let Laurent wiggle his way out. “Are you still nervous in the dark?”

“You’re dark.”

“And?”

“I…I’m not nervous of…you…”

“Shall I,” _kiss_ , “engulf you in my darkness then?” Damen asked with a reassuring squeeze around Laurent’s shoulders. Laurent began to tremble a little with laughter over Damen’s flirting but he leaned hard into Damen’s body. “Let’s go back to bed sweetheart…”

Damen picked him up, sheets and all, so that his toes were dangling a few inches off the ground and carried him back to the bed. Laurent seemed surprised as Damen enfolded his cool body in warm arms without even getting up to relight the oil lamps, as he had ever since Laurent was fourteen on his first trip to Ios.

His laugh was a mix of amazement and nervousness as he huddled into the circle of Damen’s limbs. “You’ll not light the lamps?”

“The wind will only extinguish them,” Damen responded, running his lips lightly along strands of blond hair, “besides…I won’t let anything come out of the shadows to get you…”

He was half-teasing but Laurent kneed him hard in the gut. “I am not a child!”

“No…” Damen ran his hands along the muscular planes of Laurent’s back, feeling the broad shoulders of a grown man. “No you are not…”

He and Laurent had been losing a bit of their inhibitions in the sleepy hours of the early morning and had even engaged in a little light petting, which Damen had unwittingly initiated. Though their clothes stayed on, Damen suspected Laurent was becoming intimately familiar with curves and ridges of Damen’s impressive torso. Damen himself was hesitant to touch Laurent _too_ much, however…

“If you cannot relax…I can squeeze out the tension.”

Laurent was tense---Damen estimated---about ninety percent of all waking hours. It was tough to keep so many walls up around his mind, heart, and body. Maybe that was why he was so appreciative of Damen’s frequent massages; though…it was a subtle appreciation, as Laurent rarely let much more than a satisfied sigh pass his lips.

Without releasing his nervous scholar from his embrace, Damen began expertly kneading Laurent’s shoulders in the way he knew Laurent liked. Laurent, on his part, unconsciously pressed himself up against Damen.

Under the pads of Damen’s expert fingers, Laurent’s shoulders were unknotted and his scalp was rubbed properly, causing shudders to vibrate down Laurent’s spine. His back was massaged into tender submission while Damen sucked sloppily on the side of his exposed neck. Laurent made no noise but his body twitched and trembled at the most delicious moments.

When he had run out of upper body parts to rub, Damen felt boldness creeping up into his vocal cords.

“Laurent, may I…massage elsewhere? You can tell me if you dislike it.”

His heart was beating wildly and he was positive Laurent could feel it through his clothes. He had never really had to ask for such a thing; slaves allowed him any action with pleasure and most other lovers encouraged him with unspoken cues or pulling his hands to the places they desired.

With Laurent, he could never be sure if his actions would cause fear. Laurent could refuse and Damen would pull away—it would be regrettable, but he would do it out of the love he bore.

“I…” Damen jumped a little as Laurent began to speak, “…don’t mind. Please…do.”

Even with this vote of approval, Damen moved very slowly and very gently. Laurent did not move and seemed to be holding his breath as Damen’s hands rubbed down all the way to his waist. Damen was too focused to be aroused.

He rarely got a chance to explore Laurent so intensely. He knew the skin that was becoming pliant beneath his fingers was the color, feel, and smell of newly made soap but there was something more enthralling about just… _feeling_ it, about memorizing it just by touch. He could feel the steady, smooth pulse in the indigo veins he knew were just below the skin of Laurent’s hips.

Laurent’s exhales came out in three short bursts as Damen loosely hooked his thumbs in the hollows of Laurent’s hipbones and began to sensually massage the bouncy flesh of his lower abdomen. He was so low that his knuckles were brushing against the waistband of Laurent’s pants.

Damen licked his lips just so he could remember to breathe properly and his thumbs stopped moving.

It was too dark to see much, but as Damen pulled back he could make out Laurent’s form, his pajama shirt high and pants dangerously low. Although he hadn’t let out more than a soft sigh, Damen guessed he was hazy with being touched.

It was too dark for Laurent though, and probably all he could see was a large, dark figure looming over him.

A feeling like a chip of ice lodged itself in Damen’s chest as Laurent pressed himself down on the bed and an animalistic whine of fear slipped from between his clenched teeth before he could catch himself. For a moment he must have been terrified that the nameless monster in the shadows had made its’ appearance. However, he relaxed the very instant Damen began to speak.

“Laurent, my cheeky brat,” The tightness unfurled from Laurent’s limbs as Damen cleared his hair from his forehead, “my Snow Prince…may I…touch you…more?” There could be no question as to what he meant.

Laurent sounded like an unusual mix of annoyed, fearful, and aroused. “You need not ask for every little thing…”

“I _want_ to.” Damen gently squeezed Laurent’s hips and kissed the corners of his mouth. “I want to hear you say it.”

Laurent was probably as red as a beetroot, but the darkness hid it well. “Fool…”

Damen grinned and kissed two burning-hot ears as the rain began to pour outside. “Pretend I’m as stupid as you always say I am.” Laurent snorted remembering some of his quips from his younger years. “You must give me permission or I refuse to continue.”

Laurent groaned as if the entire thing was an enormous inconvenience, but Damen knew he was just shy. His voice came out in a strangled whisper. “T-Touch me… stupid.”

Damen was beyond delighted at the very idea. As much as he dearly wished to see Laurent’s face the first time someone stroked him intimately, he was excited to feel Laurent’s cock throbbing in his hand and hear him whine with abject need. Hopefully a flash or two of lightning would give him a few tantalizing glimpses of his virginal lover in the throes of pleasure.

Damen turned Laurent on his side so he was facing open balcony and Damen pressed up behind him so his hips were pressed snugly into the fine curve of Laurent’s ass. He was somewhat of an expert on this and he looked forward to suckling most of Laurent’s upper body while his hands worked.

Laurent jerked as Damen pressed his palms flat on his exposed stomach.

Damen laughed when Laurent relaxed again. “Did you cum already?”

“Shut up!”

Damen kissed every exposed bit of skin by way of an apology and began massaging Laurent’s stomach in soft circles. “Relax…You can stop me if you are uncomfortable.”

Laurent tried his best but it was obvious he was not used to entrusting people with his body. But Damen was patient and well versed in making lovers melt.

He began kissing Laurent’s ear as his fingers pushed further and further down, rubbing a little harder each time. Laurent was perfectly still and almost oddly silent. Damen thought he might still be a bit nervous in the darkness so he began to whisper sweet words; there would be no question as to who was loving him. Laurent’s breath hitched as Damen slid the very tips of his fingers under the waistband of his pajama pants.

Damen inched his hands lower into Laurent’s pants, sliding them down until they were at his knees and his entire crotch was bare. Damen could not look for fear of his own further arousal, but instead asked Laurent if he was comfortable with these actions. Laurent could only nod; apparently he did not trust himself to speak.

For a moment Damen allowed his imagination to run wild before he laid his hands down.

The last time he had seen Laurent completely nude, Laurent had been sixteen and Damen had paid his nakedness no mind, as he was still green. Now he could not get a good look and was forced to imagine the trail of soft golden hair and sensitive pink skin below…

A shudder rippled through Laurent’s whole body as Damen’s fingers slid through the coarse hairs, still massaging. But this time his fingers pressed firm and insistent in a promise of what was to come. All the while he sucked Laurent’s earlobe and whispered his name in a reverent mantra.

Damen’s throat went dry as he finally, _finally_ rubbed low enough to wrap his hand around Laurent’s cock.

It was hotter than the rest of his cool body and---Damen was pleased to note---stiff and heavy in his hand. He stroked up the entire length with the tips of his fingers and found it pulsing and slightly wet at the tip.

Damen found himself in the unusual position in that he was fondling his lover and was groaning without actually being touched. Laurent made almost no noise in comparison but more than made up for it in tiny motions that showcased his desire: a stifled gasp that was almost inaudible over the thunder, a desperate clutching of sheets, a quick rake of nails across Damen’s dominant arm, a head tossed back in silent ecstasy…Damen wanted to make him scream with erotic need, but Laurent was too controlled for that.

Damen alternated between soft stroking and swift pumping to keep Laurent from cumming too quickly but he underestimated just how _sensitive_ Laurent was. Already blood-hot liquid was trickling over Damen’s knuckles and the length of Laurent’s penis, making it slick. Laurent’s hips shuddered as if he could not decide whether to buck into Damen’s hand or pull away.

“Damianos!” His gasp was the sweetest Damen had ever heard, “I… _can’t_!”

Damen licked a stripe of sweat from Laurent’s temple. “Then don’t. Trust me.”

Laurent made no noise as he came but stretched out to his full length, as if trying to escape, but Damen held him steadily in place as he rubbed hard. Laurent’s legs curled around his before he jerked and then went utterly limp. Damen lavished kisses of approval on Laurent’s cheeks and neck as he continued to stroke any excess off the head of the cock.

Laurent was too drained to even protest as Damen removed his own shirt to use to wipe the stickiness off of his hands and pat Laurent’s crotch dry.

He also threw back the sheets so Laurent could cool off and air out the smell of lust. Damen toyed with his damp hair, immensely pleased by this turn of events.

“Did it feel good, sweetheart?”

“Don’t…sound so smug.” Came the whispered reply.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Damen could not help it. For years he had ached to touch Laurent intimately and even in the dark it was better than he could have ever imagined. He kissed Laurent’s cooling forehead and saw eyes swivel up to look at him.

“You…you don’t…” Laurent seemed extremely unwilling to say whatever was on his mind, “want to… _soothe_ yourself? You don’t want…me to?” Damen had to struggle very hard not to laugh as it would humiliate Laurent; his innocence was showing.

“No…no, you need not do it if you don’t want to.” He knew Laurent would protest, that he would debate it as one-sided, but it was how he had been trained to think at one point. “I get my pleasure from servicing you. I want to personally show you the thrills of lovemaking.” He left it unspoken that he would have preferred to suck Laurent dry with his mouth more than anything else, but now was not the time to bring up such a suggestion.

Laurent rolled his eyes but Damen could feel him relax. He was relieved to not have to reciprocate against his will and do something sexual he was not comfortable with. Like Aimeric and Isander, he was being given a choice.

“I’m so tired…” Laurent murmured finally, unable to come up with anything more eloquent.

Damen pulled up Laurent’s pants and covered up his now-cool body with the sheets. “Should I relight the lamps?” He asked as he slid in next to his beloved.

Sleepy and sweet, Laurent curled up against him for an embrace and Damen happily obliged. “No…” he finally whispered, his cool breath tickling Damen’s chest. “No. I don’t need it…I’m not…afraid…”

 

Being loved suited Laurent, as he slept deep into the morning.

Damen awoke first, his dick tingling from the lack of release, but he had never felt so pleased in his life. Normally---if his bedmate was a slave or a nobleman---Damen would stroke them to waking, allowing them to greet the day with the relaxed warmth of an orgasm, but Laurent was different. Damen wanted him to be awake and lucid for any lovemaking. There could be no doubt, no fear in Laurent’s mind over who was touching him.

Instead Damen just did as he normally did in the morning and began to kiss and play with Laurent’s warm golden hair.

He did so until a knock came at the door. Then came the debate over whether to wake Laurent in order to maintain some distance and decency, or allow the guest in and play off their relationship as usual: very close and brotherly. It didn’t help that his chest was still bare, his shirt crumpled and sticky on the marble floors.

He was still deliberating when the knock came again and this time a sweet voice accompanied, “Exalted One, it is Isander. Are you… decent?”

Damen instantly relaxed. “Oh, yes, come in Isander.”

The door creaked open unobtrusively and Damen saw the distinctive curly black hair and wide, curious eyes peeking around the corner. Isander took in the sight of his ‘master’ still sound asleep on Damen’s bare chest and Damen looking very pleased in his current position. Isander bit back a knowing smile and shielded his expression with a smooth bow.

“Exalted One, I wish you a good morning, as does his highness, Prince Auguste. He asked me to relay to the two of you an invitation to breakfast unless…the two of you are _indisposed_.” Isander seemed almost disappointed that the two of them were not indisposed; of course he did care for Laurent’s happiness above all else.

“Please thank Auguste for us. We will be in as soon as Laurent is ready.” Damen could not help himself and gazed adoringly down at Laurent.

Isander smiled with blushing cheeks. “Of course. I shall inform him while you…wake His Highness. I hope you won’t take too long.”

“You have been spending too much time with the Veretians.” Damen commented in good-natured teasing.

Isander covered his mouth to demurely hide his laughter and excused himself from the room.

Then Damen had to go about the undesirable task of waking Laurent up. He sat up very gently, cradling Laurent in his arms. Thanks to the morning sun and Damen’s body, his skin was pleasantly warm. Damen began to nudge him softly until he saw those fine blond eyelashes flutter.

He bent his head down to Laurent’s mouth and kissed him as he woke up, feeling excitement as Laurent’s mouth opened in response. Damen could feel him smiling.

“Good morning sweetheart. Are you ready for breakfast?”

They were quite late for breakfast thanks to Laurent’s insistence on washing up and Damen’s insistence on distracting him at every turn, but Auguste seemed to not to even care at this point.

“How did you sleep brother?” Auguste asked kindly over fruit and yogurt.

Damen looked away pointedly, wondering how candid Laurent would be with his brother. Laurent shrugged in nonchalance. “Adequately.”

Damen choked on his tea.


	23. Year 19 (Part 5)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you all like the smut? Good! Have some more for a late Valentine's Day gift! You also get a look at Damen's impossible fantasies about Laurent (Laurent doesn't have the proper organs, Damen) and Lazar gets his revenge!  
> Also, side note about my life that may affect the update days: on Friday I am moving overseas to literally the other side of the Earth. So, if chapter 24 is up a little late, I apologize. I'll have it posted as soon as I have wifi in my new apartment.  
> Enjoy!

** Akielos: Year 19 (Part 5) **

The day before they sailed for Isthima, Damen and Auguste were taking a turn in the gardens with young Timon. The two princes were chatting and Timon was hiding throughout the foliage, waiting for the two of them to spot him.

Damen was having a hard time concentrating on conversation. He had, not but fifteen minutes before, rubbed Laurent to climax and left him sleepy in a post-orgasmic stupor in his bed. Their touching had become more frequent and frenetic and Laurent had even become comfortable enough with touching Damen in return. Damen had never seen anything so tantalizing before and just the memory of it caused his cock to ache.

“I can tell you are not listening to me,” Auguste began laughingly, “and I am _not_ interested in hearing why. Although I assume it has something to do with why my little brother has not joined us…”

“You’re very astute.”

Auguste rolled his eyes and then swiped his arm through a curtain of ivy, pulling out a giggling Timon. “Got you! Hide all you like, but I’ll find you!” Damen thought to himself that Auguste would make an excellent father. “Anyways…I’m glad things are working out for you. Although there are times when I miss helping you with your little schemes, as much as they exhausted me.”

“Ah…” Damen felt his ears flush in a habit he had picked up from Laurent. “About that...”

Auguste’s eyes flashed with a humorous amalgam of shock and dismay. “You _can’t_ be serious…” When Damen smiled apologetically Auguste threw up his hands. “What more can you _possibly_ give my brother?” Auguste lowered his voice to an impassioned hiss after Damen shushed him. “You cannot give him children, for god’s sake!”

“Don’t be so dramatic!” Damen was shocked as the words came out of his mouth; he was even beginning to _sound_ like Laurent. As much as he liked the idea… “Besides, I won’t need your help anyway.”

“Well do I at least get to hear what you have planned now?”

“No.” Damen was being wicked and he knew it. “Only because you complain so much.”

Auguste pretended not to care. “Well if you do intend to get my brother pregnant, let me know a bit beforehand so that I might prepare my court for the shock. In any case, your children would look like your nephew.”

“Will you shut up?” Damen laughed.

Auguste seemed wholly unrepentant as they continued to walk around, but his mood did soften as they wandered off the beaten path. “I am…truly thankful Damianos. I don’t know if I’ve expressed how relieved I am.” Almost instinctively, Damen wrapped his arm around Auguste’s shoulder. “I have never seen my brother flourish before. And, as jealous as it makes me, I think he is happier under your protection than mine. I can…never repay you for this peace of mind you have given me.”

Damen was struck by Auguste’s acceptance of him. Although he was hesitant to hope…it almost seemed as though Auguste was giving him permission.

“Thank you, my friend.” Damen responded with a reassuring squeeze. “Your approval means more to me than most others. I’ll not rub your face in it either; that would be immature.”

“Would it kill you to take a compliment without being a smartass?”

“Such is the nature of our relationship.” Damen laughed, clapping Auguste on the shoulder. “I love you, Auguste of Vere. Thank you for trusting me with what you value most…”

“You had best not let my brother hear you say that.”

“Oh I assure you, he hears plenty more than I ever tell you.”

The two of them continued to chat of Isthima and the okton and the future, while still managing to seek Timon, until well into the twilight. They were about to turn back when there was the sound of quick footsteps approaching them. Laurent’s hair and skin took on an almost silvery-blue hue in the light of approaching darkness, and he looked surprisingly lucid and neat, considering what he had been up to not long ago. Damen trotted up to meet him.

The two of them embraced quickly and separated before it would be considered unseemly as Auguste followed behind and Timon appeared from the bushes, his wavy black hair filled with leaves and twigs. He brightened at the sight of Laurent and also ran up for an embrace.

Laurent was a bit more standoffish with Kastor’s cluster of children, but did not mind Timon so much, and Timon idolized both of the lovely Veretian princes, as he did with his Uncle Damen.

Looking at the two of them, Damen was struck with irrational thoughts.

In the book of Akielon folk tales, there were some stories about handsome youths being spirited away by the gods and having their children, despite the…lack of certain reproductive organs. Laurent bore such a striking resemblance to Jokaste and Damen looked so similar to Kastor, that Timon might have been their son. Damen liked the idea of such a conception but Laurent would smack him for his foolish reveries.

Even so, Damen was already awash in lust.

His expression must have given him away as Laurent gave him an arch look before moving to greet Auguste. Damen gulped in some fresh air and tried to ignore the length of Laurent’s legs; it seemed almost criminal to be so mouthwatering…

Auguste seemed almost about to burst into laughter as he finished his conversation with Laurent and then hoisted Timon up onto his back. “Come now, my Little Fox. It appears your uncle needs to have some words with my brother.”

Timon didn’t seem to mind, as he was overjoyed to be up so high; Auguste’s only parting request was: “Dinner is in thirty minutes, so try not to be late.”

Laurent looked supremely annoyed as Damen led him deep into the labyrinth of his own gardens.

“How selfish are you, Damianos? My god, first you leave me in bed---.”

“As I recall, you had no complaints about being in the bed.”

Laurent did not dignify his counterpoint with a response but instead plowed ahead with his argument in typical Laurent fashion. “You leave me in bed to wake alone and don’t even let me finish a conversation with my brother! How is it possible for you to be so lascivious at all times? Am I to be late to dinner? My god, even rabbits must rest---where are you taking me, you madman?”

Damen felt himself grinning wide, half excited, half feral. “I find myself overcome with love of you.”

Laurent flushed, but he was still whip-quick. “You cannot eat and drink on love…”

Damen raised an eyebrow. “I beg to differ.”

Laurent yelped as Damen spun him suddenly into a lover’s nook carved into the wall behind the heavy, blossoming boughs of a wisteria tree. It was the kind of secret place only gardeners or children who had grown up exploring there would know about. And as much as Laurent had protested moments before, he certainly surrendered easily for a kiss, arching his back so Damen could hold him.

Damen pushed him so he sat firmly on one of the cushions of the seat and promptly knelt so that his head rested on Laurent’s bare knee.

Laurent hesitated before he lightly began to smooth Damen’s unruly hair.

“Laurent?”

“What?”

Damen kissed the pink kneecap and felt Laurent shiver. He probably had an inkling of what Damen wanted. “Can I lick you?” The tone of his voice could leave no question as to what he actually meant.

Laurent went rigid. “Why?”

“Mmmm…because I want to. And I want to prove you wrong: I most certainly can drink love.” Laurent flicked him hard on the back of the head.

“I…” Damen gave him a moment to respond, as Laurent was always hesitant when it came to new sexual experiences. “Why are you _always_ so…so…touchy? You already made me…” the next part came out in a shy whisper, “ _finish_ an hour ago…”

Damen rested his chin on Laurent’s knee so he could look up at his lover. “Because I love you and I like to touch you.” He did not mention to Laurent that his record in the bedroom was nearly twelve hours with one person (although there had been sporadic food and sleep breaks). “We need not be like priests and rut once a week.”

Laurent bit his lips and his leg twitched as though he ached to cross them. “You are insatiable…”

“If you don’t want to…we don’t have to.” Damen said kindly. “I will not force you.”

Laurent deliberated. “I-If I ask you…to stop if I find it…uncomfortable?”

“I’ll stop.”

“I won’t…do the same…not yet anyway.”

“That’s fine. You can wait until the time is right.”

Laurent’s voice was barely even a whisper now. “What if…we get caught?”

“I’ll simply tell them that we tripped and fell and my mouth landed on your cock.”

Laurent broke out of his embarrassment and laughed, slapping Damen upside the head. “You’re fucking ridiculous! Who would believe such a blatant lie?”

“I’m sure with someone as ‘frigid’ as you we could have some excuse.” Damen said stroking Laurent’s calf. “So…do I have your permission? To suck your cock?” His cheeks already ached at the thought.

“…Yes…” Came the strangled, desirous reply.

Elated, Damen kissed Laurent’s knee but did not remove his lips as they traveled up. The satin-soft skin on Laurent’s inner thigh trembled as Damen’s lips raked against the flesh there. He was very much on edge, so Damen moved slowly.

To prevent too much work in their enclosed quarters, Damen did not even attempt to remove Laurent’s clothes, but just slipped his head under the hem of Laurent’s chiton. Laurent was so tense, even as Damen began to explain every action he was going to do.

Always fastidious, Laurent wore underwear under his chiton, in stark contrast to Akielons who wouldn’t have worn clothes in the first place, had decorum not called for it. But Damen didn’t mind layers of clothes; he liked it when they got sticky sweet and he had to peel them off, but he also relished the idea of Laurent being forced to attend dinner without underwear on.

What did bother him was that Laurent was so nervous his dick was soft.

Damen twisted his lips. He didn’t like Laurent to be so fearful of him.

As his lips brushed the edge of Laurent’s underwear where it met his upper thigh, Laurent jerked violently, his knee punching the spot right under Damen’s throat. He instantly began to cough and fell to the ground while Laurent was suddenly caught between panicked embarrassment and hysterical laughter.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Laurent gasped through his giggles as he cradled Damen’s head. “Oh god, Damianos…I’m so sorry!”

When Damen finally caught his breath, he patted Laurent on the back. From what he could see, Laurent looked concerned, perhaps worried that Damen might be angry over his injury. But how could he be? It was the reaction of an untouched virgin. Quite the contrary, he loved it. “I… _cough_ …don’t worry, sweetheart. _Cough_ it’s the prettiest… _cough_ …knee that’s ever… _cough_ …taken me in the throat.”

“You are utterly ridiculous…” Laurent sounded so relieved that the pain waned quickly.

“I am nothing if not resilient.”

After steadily assuring Laurent that he was not angry and was still fully intent on moving forward, Damen slid back between Laurent’s legs with the added benefit that now Laurent was considerably more relaxed from laughing.

This time as he licked at the edges of Laurent’s underwear, Laurent trembled but did not jerk, and the flat part of his underwear began to stretch. Under the pads of his fingers Damen felt Laurent’s heart beat fast, but he made no noise as Damen began to lap squarely on the center of his underwear.

The key, Damen found, to bringing lovers to the height of pleasure with his mouth was equal parts voracious enthusiasm and a slow buildup.

Despite the fact that they only had a short time until dinner, Damen still squandered an ungodly amount of time in meticulously lapping and sucking on the thin bit of fabric that separated them. Laurent’s legs trembled almost out of his control and Damen secretly cursed what a waste it was to rush such an experience.

He gently nibbled on the raised flesh of Laurent’s thigh. “May I…remove this?” He tapped lightly on Laurent’s soaked underwear and was pleased he could mostly see through it. Laurent shifted. “I can’t _see_ you. You have to tell me.”

“Yes, goddamn you!” Laurent’s voice came out rushed and raspy. No doubt his ears were crimson. “Yes…”

Damen gave an expert tug and the wet fabric pooled uselessly on the ground, leaving Laurent basically naked from the waist down. Like most fair men, his crotch was an almost floral study in pinks and it was already slick from Damen’s careful attentions. His mouth ached in anticipation.

Without further toying, Damen descended, mouth agape, on the last cock he ever intended to put in his mouth.

Laurent’s whole body seemed to clench and tighten around him as Damen took the whole length in his throat and began to gulp. He used all of his little tricks, all his knowledge stockpiled from years of lovemaking to try and make Laurent squeal. But all his slurping and sucking and fondling with his tongue could not make Laurent crack. Damen had truly met his match in stubbornness.

Usually women lasted about ten minutes in his mouth, men even less, but Laurent did not. He oozed, yes, and bucked slightly, but it seemed he was holding back with the very last shred of self-control he had left.

Damen separated with a long lap and saw that Laurent’s dick was pulsing red with heat. He was a little confused.

“Laurent…does it feel good?”

“…L-Late…to dinner!” Was Laurent’s only strangled reply.

Damen had to struggle hard not to laugh. “Your priorities…when you cum then I will take you dinner.”

This time when he took Laurent back into the comfort of his mouth, Damen roped Laurent’s legs over his shoulders so that his shoulders were supporting most of Laurent’s lower body. This was a trick he used to time his sucking with the thrusting of his lover’s hips.

The heat under the skirt of the chiton was enough to dampen Damen’s hair as he worked with renewed enthusiasm and it was beginning to pay off. Laurent’s heels were grinding into his back, as if trying to find purchase, and a low whine thrummed deep in his chest. Laurent was close; if only he would just let himself go…

Damen doubled down on his efforts, as if he wanted to swallow Laurent whole, and pushed his hands against Laurent’s ass so that he could not pull back. In response, Laurent’s lean thighs clamped on his ears so that he could not move forward or backwards. Damen took no prisoners; this was---in his expert opinion---the finest oral sex he had ever had the pleasure of giving. Laurent was simply no match for him.

“ _PLEASE!_ ” Laurent wailed and Damen steadied him as his body jerked against his will.

Damen smiled as the orgasm came, strong and unstoppable. It was the kind that made the vision white and the toes curl and no doubt Laurent was currently experiencing utter helplessness he was entirely unused to. Almost reluctantly, he spurted twice and then, after Damen sucked hard on the red-hot tip, a shuddering third time.

When he emerged from under Laurent’s skirt, Laurent’s legs still draped over his shoulders, Damen knew his smile was smug, as he never tired of Laurent’s post-orgasm expression. And he made sure to show Laurent the cheerful bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

Laurent was aghast. “Stop that! Spit it out!”

“Too late.” Now Damen was being a cheeky brat as he stuck out his tongue and taunted with his empty mouth. “You’re wrong: I can drink love.”

“It’s disgusting!” Laurent was the most embarrassed Damen had ever seen him. And to be fair, he had not had the greatest experience with blowjobs in the past. From what Laurent had mentioned in passing he had been forced to drink wine and then perform, slapped when he had spit out in disgust…it was no small wonder that he had tried to force the experience far from his mind.

Damen slid up his body so that Laurent’s legs were around his waist and he was nuzzling at Laurent’s throat. “It’s none so bad for me. No worse than the medicinal oil my nursemaids used to make me take when I was a child. Coats your throat the same---.”

“ _Shut up!_ Shut up! You savage!” Laurent was red as a beetroot as he crushed his hands over Damen’s laughing mouth. “If you don’t stop saying foul things, I swear, I’ll not let you kiss me again.”

Damen’s eyes burned and he quit laughing so he could kiss Laurent’s palms. “That sounds like _hell_ … I doubt I could survive such a ban.” Laurent was self-conscious and lowered his head. “At least tell me: did it feel as good receiving as I did giving?”

Laurent bit his lower lip, unwilling at first to relay his intimate thoughts.

“…Yes…” Finally came the timid reply. “B-But don’t look so pleased with---.”

Damen did not let him finish and rushed forward to kiss his contrary mouth. Laurent did not even resist but seemed glad of the kiss; at least in this activity he was an active player. He realized Laurent did not like being at the mercy of anyone, even Damen.

When the kiss ended and Damen’s forehead had dried a little in the evening air, Laurent brought up his main concern. “We need to go to dinner; we’ll be missed.” He instantly sat up and began to smooth his hair and clothes; he reminded Damen of a huffy little falcon preening its’ feathers.

Damen groaned. He wanted to stay in their bower longer. “Fine, fine. Though I find…” Laurent glared at him as if daring him to say his next lewd thought, “that I am already a little full.”

“Fuck you!”

Damen cackled with laughter and snatched up Laurent’s abandoned underwear, as his prudish Snow Prince attempted to push past him. He spun the wet garment in his hands and snapped it whip-like at Laurent’s rear.

“Damianos! I’ll fucking kill you!”

Damen ignored his empty threat and chased Laurent from behind the curtain of wisteria, fully intending to whip it at him again. Laurent yelped and took off at a full sprint. However, Damen only managed to chase Laurent around one corner before the both of them pulled up short in shock and embarrassment.

Pallas, one hand covering his face in the shame of it all, had his other hand crushed in Lazar’s to keep him from fleeing. Lazar looked triumphant.

Laurent looked as though he wanted to die on the spot.

“Well met, Your Highnesses.” Lazar began and Damen was beginning to realize the man never forgot a slight. “His Majesty, Auguste, asked me to relay to the two of you that dinner has been served, but…if you are otherwise engaged, please carry on.”

“I’m…so sorry.” Pallas gasped.

When no one else seemed to have any more witty comments, Lazar bowed and led his lover back to the din of the banquet hall. Damen could not even bear to look down at Laurent.

Finally…”Damianos?”

“Yes?”

“If you truly love me… and you want to make me happy…”

“I do.”

“Please behead Lazar for me.”

 

The next day, Lazar was not beheaded (although he was sworn to secrecy on Laurent’s behalf), but the preparations began at dawn to stock up the ships to Isthima. Luckily, Damen and Laurent had amassed their belongings in Laurent’s vacant quarters, so they were not disturbed by the army of servants carting crates and trunks to the dock.

“Mmmm… you look tense, sweetheart…” Damen murmured. He opened his eyes to find Laurent already awake on his chest, brow furrowed. “It’s too early to ruin your pretty face.”

“I _am_ tense!” Laurent replied as Damen attempted to massage the lines between his eyebrows. “I find…I am filled with…residual embarrassment…”

It certainly was a change from his normally ice-cold demeanor. Damen lovingly cleared the hair from Laurent’s forehead. “If you want…I can suck the tension out of you…” He raised both eyebrows rakishly.

Laurent glared at him. “With our luck, the entire court will walk through the door the moment I find completion.” Then he smiled, poisonous and sweet. “Unless…you _want_ others to see me at the height of pleasure?”

Damen’s gut instantly flared up in irrational jealousy and it must have shown on his face. Laurent gave an uncharacteristic snort and began to laugh at Damen’s expression, the anxiety immediately wiped from his own face.

“You are too predictable!” He laughed.

Damen, pleasantly sour after being outfoxed, moved down for a kiss Laurent gladly gave. Damen easily maneuvered so that one of his legs was securely between Laurent’s and Laurent jumped a little as Damen cupped two soft handfuls of Laurent’s ass. Whether or not he realized it, Laurent gently bobbed his hips up and down on the hard part of Damen’s leg.

Laurent yelped and actually pushed Damen half-off the bed as a brisk knock came at the door. Then he glared down at Damen in a look of vindication and annoyance.

“All right, all right.” Damen laughed. “You told me so. You’re right, I’m wrong. Now go wash up; I’m sure it’s your brother.”

Laurent’s jubilant mood was not improved by Damen lightly pinching his ass in retaliation as he stood up for the washroom.

Auguste was waiting outside, as per Damen’s prediction, and he already looked washed and ready despite the early hour. Unsubtly, he peered over Damen’s shoulder and seemed relieved to find his brother absent and not in some state of undress. With a clap on Damen’s shoulder, Auguste entered as smoothly as if these were his own quarters.

“Your rooms are the only calm place in the entire palace.” Auguste remarked cheerfully. “Unless of course…you have managed to vex my brother.”

“Truly my greatest joy.” Damen joked, shutting the door on the chaos behind him.

Auguste stretched his shoulders as he regarded the ocean view, showcasing the muscles of his upper back. “A fine morning to laze around, but I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a small breakfast before we board.”

“Octopus?” Damen joked as he stripped off his sleeping shirt.

Auguste turned and his eyes glowed with all-out want; it was hard to determine which he loved more in Akielos, the women or the octopus. “In due time.”

Laurent interrupted their friendly banter, as he emerged fresh-faced and clean from the washroom, dabbing at his nape and neck with a towel. He smiled widely in preparation to greet his brother, but he must have caught sight of Damen out of the corner of his eye.

Damen had yet to find a pin and a belt for his chiton and so he was rummaging in his drawers whilst comfortably naked. All of his muscles, his endless tan skin, and his cock were on full display causing Laurent to pointedly look away. But his ears and neck couldn’t lie.

Auguste watched it all with barely restrained wickedness; he _was_ Veretian after all. “Good morning Laurent. Were you able to… _negotiate_ more books for our journey?”

Laurent wiped his hands with a towel, making sure not to even look in Damen’s general direction. “I am more skilled than you are, brother. I can complete ‘negotiations’ to my advantage while fully clothed. And I don’t need all night to do it.”

“I’m standing right here, you cold bastards.” Damen said in protest.

The three of them enjoyed a light breakfast on the veranda until there was a knock at the door. Nikandros walked in after he was admitted, with Isander and a few kitchen servants trailing dutifully at his heels.

“Nikandros.” Damen greeted him easily as the servants cleared the plates away.

“Exalted One, Your Highnesses,” Nikandros bowed curtly. “I hope the day has found you happy and healthy. I’m here to report that the cargomaster is only an hour away from loading the ships completely. He requests that you all board at your leisure within the hour.”

“He didn’t come to tell us personally?” Auguste inquired lightly and Laurent had to sip water to hide his smile.

“He was…previously engaged.” That was Nikandros: always the diplomat. Literally everyone knew that the cargomaster could not stand to even look at Laurent for more than five seconds. “Damianos, there is one personal item you wished to take down on your own?”

“Ah yes,” Damen remembered the box he had left aside near Laurent’s door. “I’ll pick it up on my way out.”

Isander brushed up beside Nikandros, bubbly with excitement. “Your Highness, I’m also here to report that your books and belongings have been loaded onto the ship. Would you like for me to board with you?”

“No, no. Go when you feel ready.”

Now that the two of them were working in tandem, it was easier for Laurent and Damen to coordinate so that they could walk down to the docks together. Damen carried his feather-light box in one hand and his other hand was _just_ barely brushing against Laurent’s, their index fingers lightly entwined. Damen smiled at his delicious secret, even though most of the people on the docks looked at Laurent with thinly veiled desire. Laurent either did not notice or did not care about the attention, because he was busy drinking in the hustle and bustle around him.

“Is my port really so fascinating, Snow Prince?”

Blue eyes glittered sharp. “What? Are you to be jealous of your own dock now?” Damen blushed but did not attempt to provide a defense. “I am just…memorizing my surroundings. I have walked this route twice before and I have never really taken it all in…”

He was behaving very oddly but Damen brushed it off as one of Laurent’s quirks.

“For a man as white as a shark’s belly,” Damen commented, eliciting a smile, “you certainly do like the ocean, don’t you?”

Laurent’s smile said it all.

Most of the royal passengers were already on board the main ship, and Theomedes himself came over to greet his son and his younger Veretian guest while Timon sprinted over to Auguste. Damen embraced his father and Theomedes immediately turned his attentions to Laurent.

“So, Prince Laurent. It has been some time since you’ve been to our Isthima, yes?”

Laurent was actually quite genuine when it came Damen’s father, as Theomedes had always treated him with deference. “Three years. Each one an agony without the experience.”

Theomedes clapped him on the shoulder. “Well I hope you will enjoy this time as well. Since we have waited so long, by the time we come back, you and your brother will only have one month left in Ios. Ah, how time flies as one grows old…”

Laurent smiled in acknowledgment but Damen’s well-trained eye could see that it was brittle in comparison to before. However, he knew Laurent wouldn’t tell him until he was good and ready so he let it rest until the time was right. Damen simply gave Laurent’s nape a reassuring squeeze and wandered over to the bow of the ship, counting backwards from ten.

At zero he felt a cooler arm brush against his own and he looked down to see gold.

“Are you here to watch the dolphins with me, Little Scholar?”

Laurent gave him a long look but did not reply, instead leaning his head lightly on Damen’s shoulder. Thanks to hustle and bustle that casting off the ship created, Laurent and Damen were able to be very close without attracting much attention. And despite his exasperation, Laurent did indeed perk up at the sight of dolphins when they were a few minutes out to sea.

“Laurent,” Damen broached the subject when things had calmed down a little, “Did my father say something to upset you earlier? When you were talking about Isthima?”

“Am I so transparent?”

Damen smiled, very pleased with himself. “I am somewhat of an expert when it comes to your face. I observe it _very_ carefully.”

“I…had not realized I only have two months left in Ios.” Laurent twisted his fingers. “Your father is right and it has…jolted me back to reality. Time with you has…flown by and I am considering the logistics of it all…”

Damen took a moment to translate Laurent’s thoughts into common and straightforward language.

He had also felt a twinge of anxiety when he thought about only having two months left with the one he loved. After having a taste of this melting beauty, the thorniest fruit in all the four kingdoms, how could he bear to tear himself away? This was not something he would readily relinquish and it seemed Laurent felt the same.

But Damen was only focused on easing Laurent’s worry at the moment.

When he was sure no one was watching, he kissed the spot right under Laurent’s right earlobe. “Sweetheart, relax. Live in the moment and enjoy your time in Isthima. Things will work out, I swear to you.” But even though Laurent’s body relaxed, there was still a whisper of unease in his eyes.


	24. Year 19: Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!!!! Unfortunately the wifi in my place won't let my computer connect so I'm uploading on mobile; sorry if the format is off.  
> Anyways, as a treat you guys get this chapter and oh god did I have fun writing it ;) it's also the longest chapter in this entire story and it will be the last chapter from Damen's POV.  
> Enjoy!

** Akielos: Year 19 (Part 6) **

This time Laurent had a net draped across his lap as they rode for the beach.

He refused to let Damen make the same mistake a third time, even though Damen had tried his best to ‘forget’ it so that Laurent could ride in front of him again. When Laurent called him out on his ploy, Damen could only shrug and kiss him in response, while Laurent glared. It truly was a shame, as Laurent looked positively mouthwatering in his swimming thong.

The two of them were joined by Auguste and Timon, sharing a mount on Timon’s first trip down to their favorite secluded beach.

When they reached the familiar mangrove, Laurent smiled wide when he heard the familiar chatter of unintelligible Akielon and his step was quick through the underbrush. He positively glowed when they were mobbed by the tanned children, fresh from the sea and brimming with excitement, all of them shouting ‘Brother’. However, this time it was Timon’s turn to shy away from all the fuss, as he was unused to the attention. This summer he would be the one to learn how to swim.

Damen, Laurent and Auguste greeted their friends and the Princes of Vere seemed to be shocked. The first summer Laurent had come, all the young children who had gathered around him and taught him to swim and commented on his snowy pallor were no longer children. After five years, they now comprised the group of gangly teenagers.

They were still more than happy to teach Timon to swim and showcased their expertise until the little boy was exhausted and tanned. He joined the other children in sleeping under an orange tree not long after and his three guardians could do as they pleased.

Predictably, Auguste wished to dive for seafood in the shallow shoals, but Laurent had other ideas.

“I think I’ll explore the caves and tide pools if…anyone would like to join.”

Auguste rolled his eyes. The entire afternoon, Damen had been unable to keep his eyes off of Laurent’s tanning legs while he treaded water and quite often Damen had held Laurent aloft so that he could clear the wet blond hair from his face. There was no question as to who the ‘anyone’ was Laurent wished to accompany him.

“Remember there are children around!” Auguste called out in Veretian as Damen silently began to paddle after Laurent.

Laurent’s cheeks went pink, half from the sunburn and half from his mortification. “Auguste _please_! I am not an animal!”

“You’re not the one I’m worried about.”

Damen flipped up two of his favorite fingers to show Auguste what he thought of his insinuations and the teenagers giggled at the rude gesture. And though he wouldn’t dream of touching Laurent in front of kids…he could certainly look.

It was very hard walking behind Laurent to the tide pools and watching the flesh of his ass jiggle as he walked.

At first as they walked along the rough edges of the rocks, Damen was worried about the soft pads of Laurent’s feet, but his Snow Prince proved agile as a cat, tiptoeing around the water’s edge. He was thoughtful and quiet for a few moments before Damen’s curiosity overflowed.

“What is puzzling you, Laurent?”

“It’s silly,” Laurent looked deep into a tide pool that was a very similar color to his eyes, “but…I was surprised to see that some of those children we met before…well it _has_ been a long time…” He sounded almost regretful.

Damen took a moment to translate.

Obviously Laurent was still upset that he was unable to come to Isthima during his eighteenth year, hence the regret. And it seemed that his experience at the beach was a little soured by the absence of some familiar faces.

Damen sidled up beside him. “Children? They were your age when we met them. And now they are considered grown men and women so they will have found a craft or moved to the mainland. Perhaps some will have even married and had children of their own…”

“Have we really grown so much?” It was probably meant to sound joking, but Laurent could not hide the twinge of melancholy in his voice.

Damen hugged him tenderly. “You are too young and lovely to speak like a grandfather.” To be fair, Laurent had not had much of a childhood, so he probably clung to those few happy memories. “Such is the way of life. We of all people should know; there is an innate burden to being a prince.”

“I envy their simplicity.”

“That is because you are ridiculously complicated.”

His eyes flashed. “You _like_ it.”

“I do.”

There was still something unspoken between them, but Damen did not push it any further. Laurent had been roused back into good humor and Damen was going to enjoy that until the time was right. Like a teenage lover, Damen took Laurent’s hand in his own, entwining their fingers, so that they could explore the tide pools while handfast...

…Well Laurent gazed into the still, deep little worlds, interested in flashes of movement and color, but Damen could not.

Instead, he looked at something probably no other man had seen before. The glazed brown curves of Laurent’s shoulders dusted with slightly darker freckles, the way his hair changed color from the deepest shade of honey to nearly white, and his smile…oh, his smile was rare and sweet and perfect. He was someone Damen could not let go.

In a moment of clarity, Damen understood what had worried Laurent so. He knew what he had to do, but now was not the time.

They continued to pick their way across the rocks until they reached the opposite side where there was no sand, only caves carved over time from the waves and the tide. Laurent---probably rightfully so---balked at the sight of the perfect hiding places and looked at Damen’s face for any emotions. Just as Laurent could not hide his embarrassment, Damen could not hide his lust.

“Damianos,” Laurent laughed although he was a little wary, “you _promised_ my brother. You promised!”

Damen took on an air of affected ignorance. “My response only took two fingers.”

Still, Laurent provided only flimsy defenses against further exploration and the two of them did spend a great deal of time pressed up against the rough walls of the cave. Damen’s swimming cloth was unraveled and forgotten on the damp floor, leaving him blissfully naked, but Laurent held on to his own scraps of decency and had to be touched over his clothes.

Damen nipped at Laurent’s earlobe and ran his fingers along the waistband of Laurent’s thong. Laurent crossed his legs in response.

“If you are to spend much more time in Ios,” Damen remarked lovingly, “you _must_ get used to being naked. Besides, it suits you so well.”

Laurent glowered. “I do not share in your barbarity.”

Damen licked the length of his neck in response, delighting in the goosebumps that rose on Laurent’s warm skin. “Come now. You always brag about being a diplomat…embrace the local customs.”

“I see you’ve embraced the Veretian custom of being a silver-tongued bastard.”

“I learned from the best.” Damen rubbed his thumb across Laurent’s bottom lip. “Now speaking of tongues…”

Laurent expertly dodged as Damen moved forward and Damen let him duck under his arms in escape. Laurent looked over his shoulder in a way he knew was devastating to Damen’s lower regions. “That is quite enough. We need to go back before Auguste decides to leave without us. Put that away.” He gestured flippantly to Damen’s dick.

“Don’t want anyone else to see?”

“I don’t want to frighten the children.” Laurent responded, sauntering out of the cave. “It’s amazing to me that you have no tan lines.”

Damen was laughing when he emerged from the mouth of the cave, but he had complied with Laurent’s demands and the cloth was tied securely around his dark waist. However prickly Laurent pretended to be, he still allowed Damen to hold his hand until they reached the main beach and resumed his normally standoffish personality.

Auguste was already waiting for them with Timon still asleep in front of him on his horse and a full net of sea creatures hanging from his bridle.

“How were the caves?” He asked, once again in Veretian because he knew instinctively that one of them would give him a saucy answer.

It came as a surprise that Laurent was the one who responded, though he did so with cool disinterest. “Open and moist. Are we riding home?”

Auguste simply winked at his brother and then spurred his horse into the forest.

Damen and Laurent had a bit of a hard time reaching their own horses to follow as the two beasts were surrounded by the children and teenagers. They looked up with hopeful eyes as the two remaining ‘brothers’ approached but quickly became downtrodden when Damen showcased his empty hands.

“I do not need your nets this year, you little sea scavengers.” Damen said somewhat apologetically. As much as he wished to lend them a horse, Laurent had been too quick to remember and probably would force Damen to walk back if he tried to finagle a way to make them share. “Maybe another time…”

It was at this point, Damen realized maybe he didn’t have a full handle on Laurent’s thoughts. Because as he moved to grasp his horse’s reins, Laurent took his own and tossed them to the delighted mob.

“This horse was a gift and I am letting you borrow her. I will return for her tomorrow. Understand?” He raised one eyebrow in all seriousness.

“Yes! Yes, we will!”

Laurent looked supremely pleased with himself as he turned to Damen, the shock bare on his face. “What? Do you think you’re the only devious one? I cannot possibly let you take that title from me. And I will be sitting in front, unless…” he looked up at Damen from under his eyelashes, “you would prefer another way?”

 _Naked_ , Damen wanted to request, as he was unspeakably aroused at the moment but he decided not to press his good luck.

Instead, he focused mainly on the rhythm of his horse and calming his heartbeat as Laurent’s pink ass settled firmly in front of his crotch. For once, Laurent’s skin was warm and his head rested heavy against Damen’s chest in exhaustion. It was almost unbearable save for one thing that kept him sane and almost bursting with joy.

‘ _Home_ ’…Laurent had called Isthima ‘home’.

 

Though the sun did ripen Laurent into his usual languorous good humor, Damen sensed the constant edge of worry underneath his expression when the two of them stole time together. Toward the end of their trip in Isthima, the unspoken tension became so great that it was almost tangible, like a wave about to break in their quarters, despite Damen’s near constant touching and sucking in an attempt to relieve the stress.

However, it must have been so intense that Laurent actually took some time to be by himself one overcast day. Damen woke up to empty arms and a small note from Laurent explaining he would return before the next day.

Auguste was remarkably unconcerned, even after Laurent had not shown up for lunch.

“I don’t blame him honestly. You two have spent nearly every waking moment together for the past three months and you cannot find a moment alone in this palace. Give him some room.”

Damen must have still looked concerned, so Auguste continued to soothe.

“Relax Damianos, relax…He probably just needs time to think. Sometimes Laurent needs his space so that he can clear his mind and make a decision. Call it a little quirk you can learn to find sweet. He’ll come back in a much better mood, I assure you.”

Damen narrowed his eyes when regarding his best friend. “Do…you know something you aren’t telling me?”

Auguste’s eyes twinkled in an indicator that perhaps he did have a secret he did not wish to divulge. “Maybe… But you don’t tell me what wicked things you’re up to, so I won’t tell you anything Laurent has discussed with me. Just…wait.”

“Crafty bastard.”

“Impatient slut.”

Damen saw no way around it and stretched to relieve some of his frustration. “Well…damn. What shall I do today then…without him?”

Auguste raised one eyebrow. “You can always find comfort with one of the slaves.”

“ _Never_.” Damen hissed and was rewarded by a laugh from his friend. “I could find no comfort in anyone else. Ahh…I suppose I will just have to pace about and worry. Laurent’s stress will become my own.”

“What could _possibly_ happen to him on this island?” Auguste threw up his hands.

“I don’t know!” Damen argued back. “I’m sure my tortured mind will come up with some hazard that could befall him. Gods, don’t laugh at me Auguste!”

“You are a fool for my brother!”

Damen refused to spend more time with Auguste for the rest of the day to avoid more good-natured teasing or a possible threesome, and decided to just spend his time lost in contemplation over what Laurent could be doing. At least it kept him from imagining what sorts of creative ways Laurent could get himself into trouble. Damen laughed to himself that _if_ Laurent was kidnapped by pirates, then it would probably be a worse situation for the pirates and they would end up paying a ransom for someone to take the annoying prince off of their hands.

He tried not to let negativity rule his thoughts, but it became harder and harder as the day wore on and darkness fell and dinner was cleared…and still there was no sign of Laurent.

Damen wandered the grounds but always managed to end up in the main courtyard.

The stableboys chose not to comment on the fact that their Crown Prince wandered by a bit more often than usual or that he was devoid of his usual companion and tended to stare off into the forest for several minutes. It was not their job to question his motives though…they had some suspicions.

When it became too dark to see anything outside the gates, Damen gave up and retired for the evening. He would just have to trust Laurent at his word.

It was unusual to return to an empty room, though it did have an exotic quality to it. The lamps and candles were already lit and the servants had pulled back the curtains to allow a warm summer breeze to waft through the open balcony arch. It was so warm and pleasant, Damen began to hesitantly look forward to a warm bath followed by drying himself in the open air. Wandering around naked was one of the few luxuries he had missed while having Laurent around. He would work on it in the future…

Some slave must have anticipated his and Laurent’s habits, as a steaming bath had already been drawn, freesia, orange and lemon blossoms had been infused into the water, and a variety of soaps and oils had been left for their personal use.

The enormous tub was for naught; Laurent and Damen still had yet to bathe together.

Damen soaked for a good half hour before padding out to his bedroom to let his body dry from the salty air. Normally for Laurent’s sake, he would put on his sleeping shirt immediately after toweling off his hair and body, but this evening he just let the towel pool at his feet and relished in the feeling of being free and naked in his own quarters.

“Are you in the habit of sleeping in the nude?”

Damen turned slowly, a smile on his face at hearing his favorite sound on earth.

Laurent was leaning carelessly against the archway, his skin slightly browner than it had been the day before. He also looked impeccably clean for having been out all day and Damen realized that he must have been the one to light the lamps and draw the bath, using it first and then hiding on the balcony until Damen returned.

His oiled muscular body was on full display as he began to walk leisurely towards Laurent. Surprisingly, Laurent did not flinch away but held his ground. “Mmmm usually yes. But you see…I have this lover and he gets unusually… _shy_ , when I parade around with no clothes on. I’d like to make it a habit to sleep nude more often but…” By this time Damen was nearly abreast of Laurent and began to toy with his soft blond hair. “I prefer when he sleeps with me, so I make sacrifices.”

Laurent had not moved and his smile was wry. “He sounds like a pain in the ass.”

“Oh, he is. But he’s _my_ pain in the ass.”

The two of them went silent and stared into each other’s eyes until Damen broke the spell. He chuckled and tore his eyes away before striding back into his bedroom. Laurent did not move to follow him.

“Where did you go today, my Snow Prince?”

“I…needed to think. So I rode my horse around the entire island. At least three times…”

“And?” Damen reached his chest of drawers and prepared to pull out one of his cotton sleeping shirts. “Did you manage to clear your mind?” He jumped a little as a familiar slender hand pushed his dresser drawer shut. “Laurent?”

Laurent was right behind him and when he looked up his eyes were glassy with a mix of hope and anxiety. “D-Don’t…” Uncharacteristically, he stumbled over his sentences, “you don’t…have to…wear that…”

Now he had Damen’s full attention.

Damen turned very slowly so as not to frighten Laurent and felt something unbidden rising in his chest. “Laurent…what on earth did you think about today?”

Laurent did not respond immediately but simply led Damen over to the bed so that they could sit next to each other. Damen could barely think straight as suddenly his nose was acutely aware of the clean, flowery smell of Laurent’s skin and his hips began to throb…

“Do you…” Laurent’s next words came out in a hurried flow, like it did when he was drunk, “doyouwishtomakelovetome?”

Damen took a moment to decipher the slurred sentence. “…yes?”

When Damen made no other motion to continue speaking, Laurent began to twist his hands in his lap as he was unsure of how to continue. Damen watched him with growing fondness; Laurent had spent the day thinking of how to make love to Damen. He was so wonderfully blunt when it came to this intimate topic.

“I…I-I know not…how to continue…” Laurent finally gasped in an impassioned plea.

“I’d noticed.”

“Would you…like to…put it in now?”

This time Damen could not hold back and began to shake with helpless laughter. He clasped Laurent’s shoulders to keep him from fleeing in embarrassment and attempted to explain just how much he loved this brutally honest person next to him.

“My Laurent your tact is something I have never encountered before. I am not teasing you, I swear. But…I cannot just thrust inside of you.”

Laurent’s expression had gone from pale and nervous to blotchy with embarrassment until Damen soothed him and he looked confused. “I have…already cleaned myself in the bath and…steeled my resolve. Am I…would you like _me_ to mount…you?” He seemed almost overwhelmed with the very thought and Damen began to laugh again.

“My love, if it makes you happy…” Damen took both of Laurent’s hands in his own, “I will gladly let you. But it seems a waste since you have already cleaned yourself.” It was then that Damen found himself in the unique position of having to give his lover a crash course on sex. “I cannot just thrust into you or it will be very painful. How on _earth_ did you live in Vere for so long and never see a full act of love---you know what? You don’t even have to answer, let’s just continue. You…want to make love tonight?”

Laurent’s slim fingers were lightly shaking inside of Damen’s larger ones. “I wish to do so…very badly…but you’ll forgive me if I am…a little nervous. I am not well versed in such subjects.”

“You could have asked.”

“Who?” Laurent laughed, looking at Damen with incredulity. “Auguste has never fucked men and I could not bear to ask Isander; how shameful! That my…my assistant would know more than me. If only _someone_ would let me bring more books and perhaps the pages would give away more information.”

Damen was shaking with laughter yet again. “You could have asked me!”

“I-I am…” Laurent began with such bluster but then began to sputter as he caught sight of Damen’s penis, “…a little… _modest_ …”

“I understand, I understand.” Damen soothed, feeling the adoration rising in his chest. Laurent was too shy. “Usually these things occur in the heat of the moment; I’ve never really strategized loving before…”

Laurent bit his bottom lip. “Perhaps…I will leave the actions in your hands. I believe…this is one of the few areas of life…where you are better versed than I am. May I…” He looked up and his eyes were wide and guileless, “…join you in your…bed this evening?”

Damen reverently kissed both of Laurent’s palms. “It would be my honor.”

As Laurent undressed himself and lay stiffly on the bed, Damen had to struggle not to chuckle again. Laurent had obviously spent a great deal of time preparing the room for the correct mood, but he was too clumsy and prudish to set it himself. He was so out of his element, he had refused to let Damen undress him and looked like a marble statue sat atop a royal coffin.

It was so amusing, Damen was struggling to solely focus on his arousal. Laurent was flaccid from nervousness and Damen knew he had to ease some of the fear and tension first. And the best way was…

While Laurent’s eyes were closed, Damen backed up to the bathroom door and took a running start. Laurent shrieked as Damen jumped onto the bed next to him, causing him to bounce a foot into the air, returning to Damen laughing hysterically.

“WHAT IN THE EVER-LOVING HELL IS _WRONG WITH YOU!?_ ”

Laurent at first wanted to be mad, but Damen’s good humor wore him down and, before long, the two of them were clutching each other while laughing. Damen, still smiling, cleared the ruffled hair from Laurent’s eyes.

“There it is…there’s that smile I love.” Damen felt aglow with how much love he felt and he moved closer to Laurent so he could bask in the beauty of that smile.

It softened at his approach, and when their laughter faded to just a sharp ache in the chest, Laurent glanced down at Damen’s half open lips. Laurent exhaled softly and closed the gap, his tongue piercing insistently past Damen’s lips.

All the tension that had been building up for weeks broke over the two of them like a wave.

And Laurent’s inhibitions burnt to ashes in his lust and he pressed up against Damen, hands weaving into Damen’s wavy black hair. Damen’s hands cupped Laurent’s back in response and slid down until he had each hand grasping a soft buttock; Laurent opened his mouth wide in response and thrust one leg over Damen’s hip, the other snaking between his legs. The two of them thrust their hips shamelessly until their arousal could no longer be hidden.

The two of them desperately grasped at each other’s hips, as they usually did when stroking in tandem. Damen moaned into Laurent’s mouth as he felt cool fingers wrap around his cock; Laurent only shivered as Damen began to play with his. They bucked into each other with feverish need.

“Stop, _stop_.” Damen whispered when the throbbing became almost unbearable.

Laurent was absolutely wrecked. His lips were wet and swollen, his eyes were shiny with need, and his whole body was flushed and shivering. Almost reluctantly, his hand slipped from around Damen’s penis but it rested lightly on Damen’s thigh, just in case.

“Ok…what now?” His voice was controlled but it came out a little like a gasp.

“Foreplay.” Damen said.

Foreplay was one of Damen’s most favorite activities, and he was very, _very_ good at it. In fact, he would spend hours just bringing a lover to the height of pleasure, only to peel back at the last moment and leave his partner limp and gasping beneath him. Laurent had only scratched the surface of Damen’s skills and Damen was so excited to show him the entire range of pleasures at his disposal.

“Will you flip on your stomach for me Laurent?”

Laurent tensed up. “A-Are you…putting it in already?” His eyes glanced down at Damen’s erection with some apprehension.

“Absolutely not.” Damen began to kiss Laurent’s shoulder blades once Laurent rolled onto his stomach. “I will ask you before I do any such thing. If you want to stop we can.”

“No!” Laurent demanded, steeling himself again. “What are you doing now?”

Damen had drawn back and was kneeling on the bed, just staring down at Laurent. It was rare he got this kind of uninterrupted view of Laurent’s body, especially as it was now: long and relaxed in the firelight. “I admire your brilliant mind…I admire your skills and athleticism…but, my god, Laurent of Vere, you have the finest form I have ever seen.” Like he was worshipping an idol, Damen ran the tips of fingers lightly along the muscular planes of Laurent’s back.

Laurent rolled his eyes but his ears went scarlet and he had to bite his lip to hide his smile.

Damen continued to touch Laurent’s back: massaging the muscles, kissing the bones, and leaving gentle scratches on the skin. He waited until Laurent was relaxed beneath his hands…then he moved a little lower.

His lips traced the valley of Laurent’s trim waist and Laurent’s skin raised. He was not used to being touched there.

“Damianos? A-Are you going to…lick me?”

As much as he tried to act aloof, Damen got the feeling that Laurent enjoyed oral sex more than anything else they had done together, as he asked for it most often when the two of them were intimate. His enjoyment of receiving was perhaps only matched by Damen’s enjoyment in giving it. That made him think Laurent would enjoy something else he liked to do…

Damen kept his eyes locked with Laurent’s but his hand slid to the rise of Laurent’s ass, his middle finger resting just at the top of the gap between them.

“Can I…lick you here?”

Laurent looked horrified. “You madman! It’s…it’s _dirty_!”

“I thought you said you cleaned it…”

“I did but…” Laurent’s brow furrowed. “I’m…”

Damen removed his hand and kissed one of Laurent’s bronzed butt cheeks. “If you don’t want to, we can do another type of foreplay. It’s just my personal suggestion. It’s ok to be shy.”

“Y-You don’t…mind it?”

Damen fixed him with a serious look, but his eyes glistened cheerfully. “My Snow Prince…if I had my way, my face would be buried in your ass all night long.” He laughed at Laurent’s expression and was rewarded with a pillow thrown at his head. ”You have no idea!” He tossed the pillow back at Laurent’s outraged face. “If it were a sport in the okton, I would be the undefeated champion!”

“Stop, _stop_!” Laurent’s plea was halfway between a laugh and a wail. “I don’t know what I can’t stand more! Your filthy mouth or your blasted arrogance!”

“There’s a quick and easy way to shut me up.” Damen teased, sticking out his tongue.

Laurent was now laughing uncontrollably. “Do it then! Do it you fool, and do it well or I will tell everyone in Four Kingdoms that Crown Prince Damianos k-kissed my _ass_ and…he was terrible at it!”

Laurent continued to laugh while Damen began to kiss up and down the curves of Laurent’s quivering ass cheeks.

He moved down smoothly so he was positioned between Laurent’s legs, still kissing and Laurent’s giggles took on sharp gasps at the end. Gently, very gently, Damen spread the flesh apart and Laurent sucked in breath. He was trusting Damen with the one place he had managed to protect and leave untouched and Damen was going to going to treat it with the proper devotion.

Lightly, he pressed his lips against the pink center and felt the shudder ripple through Laurent’s body.

Damen grinned. Laurent’s bravado may have met its’ match in Damen’s tongue.

In one long lap, Damen trailed his tongue slowly the entire length of Laurent’s ass and Laurent clutched the sheets as if he was falling off the bed. His knuckles were white from his grip as Damen repeated the action over and over, each time going a little faster, his tongue pressing a bit more insistently.

“Does it feel good, Laurent?” Damen asked after a few more sweeps of his tongue.

“Feels weird.” Laurent’s voice was muffled from where he had pressed his face into the pillows to hide his expression. He jumped as Damen rubbed his hole with his index finger. “D-Don’t…stop on my account.”

Damen smiled into Laurent’s left ass cheek; Laurent liked the feeling.

“My love…”

Laurent’s hips rose, trembling, a few inches into the air as Damen resumed his delightful task, but this time he was not quick and insistent. No, this time he savored the slow and deliberate motions. This time his tongue did not move up and down, but stayed in the same spot.

The hole breathed with Laurent’s lungs and Damen’s tongue worked it in little circles, and when Laurent shakily exhaled, he pushed the very tip of his tongue in. Sometimes it was so tight, he felt as though he could not pull it out.

Laurent was the most controlled lover Damen had ever licked, as most screamed into their pillow or bucked desperately into Damen’s lips. Laurent only quivered, his hands pulling the bedsheets.

When Damen extricated his tongue, Laurent’s cock quivered too and liquid dribbled out the tip. “Ah! Ah! _Ahhh…_ ”

Before moving back up to his Laurent, Damen slid his lips down to the tip of Laurent’s cock to suck of the extra that had began to drip toward the sheets. Laurent twitched impatiently and Damen settled next to him so they were lying next to each other.

“So…can you praise Akielos’ Crown Prince as skillful with his mouth?”

Laurent’s eyes were still a little glassy from pleasure but they narrowed nonetheless. However, he linked his left fingers through Damen’s hand and squeezed slightly.

“I have no basis for comparison so…I’ll not compliment you.”

“Ah.” Damen kissed Laurent’s cool fingers. “I’d almost be disappointed if you gave in so easily. Now can I ask you a favor?” Laurent’s gaze took on a distrustful quality until he heard Damen’s simple request: “Will you reach in that drawer for me?”

Dutifully, Laurent propped himself up on his elbows and reached for the small table next to the bed. When he returned, his expression was confused as he regarded the pale blue bottle in his hands.

“What is---?”

Damen easily plucked the bottle out of his hands. “It’s oil to…erm, loosen you up.”

“How fortuitous that you just _happened_ to have some in your bedside table this evening.” Laurent, Veretian by blood, refused to trust a coincidence.

“Sweetheart,” Damen kissed Laurent’s cheek closest to him, “I have kept lover’s oil with me since the day we kissed in your library. Just in case.” Laurent laughed at Damen’s ultimate confidence.

“Just in case, my ass!”

“Yes, that was the general idea.” Damen looked down at the aforementioned ass and liked what he saw. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

While explaining the entire process and getting Laurent’s permission to continue, Damen shifted so he was back down between Laurent’s legs and fetched a pillow to prop his hips and butt up into the air. Slaves and Veretian pets had undergone such training before, but Laurent was new to it all so Damen knew it would take a bit of time before he was ready. He uncorked the bottle and liberally spread the warm oil on the fingers of his right hand; while kissing the flesh of Laurent’s bottom, Damen poured more down the center of Laurent’s ass. Normally the time spent of sloppy foreplay would be spent preparing Laurent, and Damen was absolutely thrilled at the prospect.

“Laurent…may I begin? If something feels uncomfortable or very good, please let me know.”

Laurent looked up from where his flushed face was pressed into the pillows. “For a man who prefers action, you certainly do talk a lot. I’ll not faint dead away.”

“It’s my hope that you do.”

Pushing tenderly, Damen wiggled his middle finger inside of Laurent’s anus and exhaled softly. Laurent’s hips bounced softly as Damen began to explore his insides, massaging the walls and pressing the spots he knew could make a man cry out in ecstasy.

But Laurent did not so easily give in to pleasure.

His hips shook as Damen touched him but the most noise he made was a soft groan when Damen inserted another finger. Damen was sweating just from his own arousal and rested his head on Laurent’s ass cheek as he focused. More oil was added as he gently stretched the entrance with both fingers and Laurent dug his toes into the bed.

Damen rubbed and stretched in turns for a solid twenty minutes until Laurent was limp beneath his fingers and the hole was relaxing. Then came the more difficult part. Damen removed his two fingers to apply more oil.

“Laurent?”

“What?” Came the gasp. “Have your fingers…melted off…inside me?”

“It feels that way, doesn’t it?” Damen laughed at Laurent’s cheekiness. “No, I am just warning you that I am about to add a third finger and…it might feel just a little uncomfortable…because of the stretching. I’ll stroke you while I do so but…let me know if it hurts ok?”

Laurent grinned at him wickedly. “You know…this could have…all been avoided…if you had been…born with a smaller cock.”

Damen nipped at his butt cheek. “I think you’ll find some benefits to the one I have now.”

Laurent did not let a whimper pass through his lips as Damen wedged his three middle fingers into Laurent’s flushed ass, but his insides did clamp hard on Damen’s fingers. Damen stopped immediately and moved his other hand down to begin stroking Laurent’s cock until he began to relax again.

For another twenty minutes, Damen continued to stretch and stroke, kiss and nip in the hopes of making Laurent melt into the bed sheets. With his middle finger, he tapped lightly on that swollen spot that made Laurent jerk and a little cum oozed out into his other slick hand. Damen had to try very hard not to ejaculate just at the sight.

When Damen’s fingers began to feel numb, he removed them slowly and took a look at his handiwork.

From hole to cheek, Laurent’s entire ass was blushing red and pink and dripped with warm, sticky oil. Tiny shudders rippled down Laurent’s spine and his anus gaped. He looked so sweet, Damen couldn’t help but take another taste.

Laurent yelped at the feeling of Damen’s tongue wiggling around inside of him.

“Feel good?” He asked wiping his mouth.

“…Yes…”

Very easily, Damen slid his hands under Laurent’s hips, removing the pillow and flipping him so he was lying on his back. With such a beauty splayed out in front of him, Damen could not help but sigh in admiration. Laurent flushed and pretended to look mad.

“And why have you decided to stall now?”

“Because I still cannot believe you have chosen me. It is…the best thing in my life. And I will say this again: above all else I fell in love with your wit…but your body is a very close second.” He moved forward to just hold Laurent for a moment, to get that skin-on-skin contact he so desperately craved.

What was even more wonderful was that Laurent held him as well, as an equal, his hands gently running through Damen’s thick hair.

Damen was loath to part from such a sweet embrace, but his dick was getting impatient. He pulled back after a few kisses and reached for the oil. Laurent’s eyes became wide as saucers.

“A-Are we…going to…begin? Now?”

“Unless you don’t want to.” Damen offered kindly before he poured oil onto his hands. “We can stop right now if you like; we can just use our hands or mouth for relief. It’s up to you.”

“No, no, I…I want this but…must we… _face each other_?”

Laurent’s embarrassment was so extreme, even his years of Veretian deception could not hide it. One hand covered half of his bright pink face while the other sneaked lower in an attempt to hide his crotch. His modesty seemed rather silly after all the times they had played love games before, but Damen was an accommodating lover.

“We can…do it from behind but…for your first time it’s very impersonal. I should like to see your face…and you to see mine.”

If Laurent was adamant and pushed the issue, Damen would relent but he so badly wanted to look at Laurent while they made love. It would addict him for sure.

“I…I trust you.” Laurent whispered.

Shaking with excitement, Damen lavished kisses on Laurent’s legs as he greased himself in preparation. When he settled into place with the tip of his cock resting on Laurent’s skin, both of them seemed to be holding their breath. Damen glanced up at Laurent’s face and his Snow Prince nodded in assent.

Damen carefully pushed forward and it broke the spell. Laurent’s breath hitched.

When he had inched himself all the way in, sweat dripped down the bridge of his nose and he held himself still for a moment. It was an easy entry due to the preparation and the oil but he wanted to get Laurent used to the feeling and also control his own desire.

“How…does it feel losing your virginity, my Laurent?”

“Hot…uncomfortable…kind of like I have to---“

“Ok, ok. Don’t ruin the mood.” Damen laughed at his highly unromantic review. “It will feel better in a bit. May I begin to move?” Laurent nodded and turned his head from embarrassment.

This would not do.

Damen leaned down so they were completely pressed together and Laurent turned his head so that Damen could kiss him. Damen did not begin to pump until Laurent relaxed and began to kiss him back.

Laurent’s breaths came out in shaky bursts as Damen slid out and pushed back in for the first time. Damen pressed his forehead against Laurent’s and drew Laurent’s arms around his neck so he could hold on for dear life. As Damen thrust his hips with a soft rhythm, he cradled Laurent’s head in one hand and lifted those white hips with his other hand. He trailed his fingers along the soft skin of Laurent’s legs.

Their sweaty bodies slid together and Laurent dug his nails into Damen’s back to hold on tighter. When they were not kissing feverishly, the two just gazed at each other’s expressions, foreheads still pressed together.

“Feel better?” Damen asked breathlessly. It was so hot and tight…it had been so long since he had taken a lover that he had to really focus to pace himself.

Laurent gripped him tighter. “Y-Yes it’s…good…just go as you like…”

Damen shuddered at such bold permission, but he continued pumping slowly so that he could build up momentum over time. Laurent did not moan or wail, but just gave little sighs of satisfaction or surprise as Damen brushed against a spot he liked and it was almost too much for Damen to handle.

After Laurent’s insides began to relax around him and the arms on his neck were a little more limp, Damen began to pump a little faster and let his own hands wander.

As he reclaimed Laurent’s lips, his hands found the way to the pair of petal pink nipples on that white chest and he began to squeeze them between his warm, oil-slicked fingers. Laurent mewled only a little thanks to his absurd self-control, as Damen gently kneaded them: twisting the tips between his thumb and index finger before rubbing them in hard circles. Under Damen’s touch, they quickly went from the palest of pink to nearly reddish at the tips…ever so sensitive. Laurent quaked whenever his nipples were pinched and he tried to press his hot crotch up against Damen’s stomach to find friction.

“N-No more!” Laurent begged as he separated from Damen’s kiss. “It…It feels s-strange…” Damen relented and left Laurent’s nipples alone so he could move down. His hips thrust a little faster…

When Damen’s searching fingers found Laurent’s burning cock, Laurent had a crack in his control and his blue eyes rolled back in his head at the touch. Damen skillfully thumbed the tip before sliding his hand the entire length, oiling it up again. Laurent twitched helplessly.

Damen stroked in time with his thrusts so that Laurent would feel waves of pleasure along with Damen’s dick entering him. Laurent yanked himself up so that his face was pressed into Damen’s shoulder and his nails were raking red lines across Damen’s back, but he never cried out no matter how soft and sweet or hard and merciless as Damen rubbed. Damen began to murmur in Laurent’s ear in between nibbling and licking the ear.

“My sweetheart, my Laurent…Come for me. Give it to me so I can drink you down. Tell me you like it, tell me it feels good. Whisper it in my ear or scream it…oh god, dig your nails in, darling. Hold on tight…”

Laurent was normally very shy when it came to dirty talk, but this time he responded very simply. In one smooth move he wrapped his pale legs around Damen’s waist and clawed in ten clean lines down Damen’s back. The pain was so delicious, Damen groaned and came a little in his next thrust.

“I’m not…yours…” Laurent hissed breathless and smiling in Damen’s ear. “I’m _mine_.”

Then with a giggle at his own contrary nature, Laurent was finally able to relax and he curved in a lovely white arc up against Damen’s torso. His head was thrown back, mouth wide, and he came in Damen’s hands. The cum bubbled over Damen’s knuckles and Damen made sure to lick it off when he knew Laurent was watching him. And Damen paused his own pleasure to look down at the sight beneath him.

Laurent looked angelic.

His eyes were glassy in a post-orgasm stupor and his browned skin was glowing from the exercise. He was smiling up at Damen with not a single guard up around his body or mind.

“What?”

Damen dove in for a kiss. “I love you, Laurent of Vere.”

Laurent, for once, did not roll his eyes or look away or retort with a snappy remark. Instead, his smile widened. “I…love you too, Damianos.”

The two of them kissed deeply after their declaration and Damen began to thrust again. He needed to be inside, he needed to fill Laurent up, he needed this ultimate act of love to be completed. And Laurent allowed himself to be held and trusted Damen with his body, as Damen clutched him close. He even began to moan softly through Damen’s tongue as the pace quickened.

Damen pushed Laurent deep into the bed with his hips and Laurent pushed up, as his cock was still sensitive. Arms, legs, tongues, and sheets wrapped around the two of them like writhing vines as they tried to get ever closer and Damen’s crotch was pounding frantically against Laurent’s backside.

“ _Damianos_!” Laurent cried, adding new scratches to Damen’s back as he came dry.

The sharp sting on his back paired with the clenching of Laurent’s insides from his own pleasure was too much for Damen. For the first time in almost two years, he came inside of a lover, his thighs shaking as it poured out inside Laurent.

With a sigh of pure and utter satisfaction, Damen slid his dick out and rolled over so that Laurent could lie on top of him. They rested, silent and panting on the wet bed sheets, allowing their damp bodies to cool in the night breeze. After a moment, Damen began to play with Laurent’s hair and blew softly on his forehead to cool him. Laurent laughed quietly.

“There were…rumors about you in Arles, you know. About your… _skills_ in the bedchamber. I thought you had paid them to say so…”

“And now?” Damen felt extremely proud of himself.

Laurent rested his chin on Damen’s collarbone. “As annoying as it is…I fear the rumors are not exaggerated. That was…” For once, words seemed to fail him.

“To have made the second prince of Vere speechless? That is the highest compliment.” Damen laughed. “I am also afraid.” Laurent looked up at him questioningly. “I am afraid I will never be able to let you out of this bedchamber again. I’m worried I’ll never be able to run my own country because I’ll be too busy fucking you senseless.” Laurent was laughing hard now. “I suppose Kastor will have to inherit…”

Laurent slapped his chest. “Don’t be ridiculous! I’d never allow it.”

“I’m joking.” Damen assured him, also laughing.

“But…” Laurent’s ears turned pink so Damen was at full attention, “as we are on holiday…I would not mind…remaining in the bedroom for the next…few…days…”

Despite the vigorous exercise it had just endured, Damen felt his dick stiffen again. He was so unspeakably excited at the thought, he could barely stand it. He pressed a kiss against Laurent’s cool forehead. “Wonderful. We can make up three years worth of sex.”

Laurent laughed in disbelief and rolled his eyes. “Cocky, aren’t you?”

“I’m so glad you noticed.” Damen purred, bumping his hips up so Laurent could feel his arousal. Laurent blushed but he moved forward in a moment of uncharacteristic boldness to kiss Damen.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”


	25. Year 19: Part 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have internet now!  
> Oh my god guys, we only have one chapter left after this! Such a bittersweet feeling...Today we have a chapter from Laurent's point of view and this is something I'm sure all of you will feel victorious reading about ;) I know it's a little...cheesy but, I can't help myself. The scenario was too good to pass up.  
> I hope you all enjoy! Saturday/Sunday is our last hurrah!

** Akielos: Year 19 (Part 7) **

Laurent woke to the feeling of the sun.

He did not open his eyes but he felt it softly browning his skin, lightening his hair, and coursing through his veins in a feeling like liquid fire. He felt so delightfully warm, safe, and comfortable that he actually considered snuggling back in and going to sleep. This was so unlike him it actually made his lip twitch up in a smile. He had always prided himself on his ability to wake up early and alert and he was now, lazing away in bed.

There was another feeling deep up inside him: pulsing with the feeling of being stretched and rubbed and cleaned in an endless loving cycle. It was a feeling he liked.

Now he felt a little empty without his hips being caressed.

He did not know how many days it had been since he and Damen had holed themselves up in Damen’s quarters in Isthima for their feverish lovemaking. It had to have been at least three days; luckily they had managed to survive thanks to provisions discreetly provided by Isander and Auguste.

When Laurent thought of the sex again---his eyes still closed---his entire lower body ached with surprising need. Damen had once said he was a slave to Laurent’s pleasure, but now Laurent secretly felt he had become the slave. Though he would never admit it, Laurent wanted to be loved every moment; he felt it had been a waste to not let Damen make love to him earlier and now he was addicted to it. It was partly why he didn’t want to leave the bed, in hopes Damen would rouse him and they could fuck again.

His courtiers in Arles had inadvertently predicted his future as a slut.

They had stripped the wet sheets from the bed and Damen had called Isander for more oil after they ran out of the first bottle. Then the passion had begun afresh and Damen had taken Laurent in any way Laurent requested or Damen suggested. They clutched each other in loving, gentle sex and nearly lost their minds in primal, savage fucking. Laurent had gladly ridden on top of Damen a few times in a powerful position he liked, and shamefully came multiple times when Damen took him from behind like dogs in a rut. They fucked ruthlessly on the balcony, against the wall and---when they could not make it to the bed---on the floor. Food, drink, and trips to the bathroom were taken in brief snatches in between lovemaking and sleep was only achieved after they sank into a dreamless exhaustion. Often Laurent would awake in Damen’s arms to find a wilted cock still inside of him.

And Damen---beloved Damen, _his_ Damen---had been so gentle. He had prepared Laurent each time and cleaned him out when they were finished, held him gently in his deep slumber and whispered constant loving words in his ears.

He smiled; Damen was all his and only Laurent could have this loving.

Laurent was half-aroused at this point by his recollections, and though it would not show anywhere on his body, he decided to open his eyes to see his lover. Laurent began to stir softly and opened his eyes.

Though it took a moment for his vision to adjust, his hearing worked perfectly well and he heard the sound of rustling around him as he moved. It almost sounded like…

Laurent sat up and white fell all around him.

Laurent began to laugh in disbelief; Damen was nowhere to be found, which was highly unusual, and instead the bed was completely filled with folded paper flowers. Laurent remembered them from his childhood, when Damen would fold them and throw them in an attempt to distract and annoy. Now Laurent had been covered in them. Damen had folded them in all sizes and piled them on top of Laurent’s head and body and the bare mattress in a crinkling mountain of paper petals. They fell down like snow around him.

Smiling, he cradled a handful of them. “Damianos. What is all this?”

Silence.

Laurent got to his knees and looked around. He could not see Damen anywhere in the room or on the balcony or from what he could see of the bathroom. But he did see something else…

From the bed and on the floor, leading to the main door was a single line of paper flowers. It almost looked like a trail set by children, like a path to a pirate treasure or a faerie realm. Laurent rolled his eyes in case Damen was watching, but secretly he was thrilled. He liked this kind of playfulness that he had never experienced as a child.

He threw his legs over the bed, trying not to crush the flowers, and tried to hide how unsteady he felt on his legs. His knees shook but he took slow, deliberate steps to hide the throbbing inside of him.

Though in Isthima it was perfectly normal to wander about the halls in the nude, Laurent still clung to his modesty. He wrapped himself in a thin, cotton robe before going out to follow the trail of paper flowers.

Damen was not in the hallway either, Laurent noted as he pushed the oak doors open with his shoulders, but the man was panther-silent in the marble halls of his own palaces. Though he always maintained an unflappable demeanor, even Laurent had been startled at times when Damen had seemingly materialized out of the shadows without a sound. He could be hiding now, waiting to gauge Laurent’s reaction.

The hallway was empty, save for the path of paper flowers that were placed every five inches on the marble floors. Laurent was quietly impressed; there had to be hundreds of them and it must have taken Damen days or weeks to fold them all. How had he smuggled them all with him?

Laurent thought for a moment before he remembered the large box Damen had carried easily down to the port. Sneaky bastard…

It was unusual that the halls were so empty. Damen must have finagled a way to keep people away for his little game, perhaps enlisting Isander and Auguste and Aimeric and god knew who else. It made Laurent a little unsettled honestly. As a child, he had preferred to be left alone in peace and quiet but after spending nearly every waking moment with someone as excitable as Damen, Laurent now found the silence oppressive.

There were only the sounds of rustling leaves, birdsong, and his own light footsteps.

By now he was sure there were thousands of flowers and he was also sure of where they led. The west sunroom almost reminded him of a greenhouse and Damen had informed him in the past that it had been his mother’s favorite room when she had been alive.

It was bright and warm from the glass walls and ceiling and very light and feminine in decoration. There were thick, flowering orchids and hibiscus pouring out of intricately painted vases, low white couches and tables, marking the room as an area for mingling and relaxing, and---a wondrous thing---a goldfish pond built into a hollow in the mosaic floors. For a moment, Laurent could imagine the royal ladies of Akielos lounging here in the early afternoon, sipping chilled wine and gossiping freely. It seemed a waste that it was so vacant.

Still Damen was nowhere in sight, though he could be hiding somewhere…

Laurent followed his flowers to a somewhat secluded bower in the left part of the room where the trail culminated on an elaborate wooden table. Quite unlike the other furniture in the room, it was dark, unadorned and practical, looking more suited for a war room than an airy solar. It also looked ridiculous as it was piled high with a mound of paper flowers.

Laurent smiled at the absurdity of it all, wondering why Damen would do such a thing. Fortunately, he was fond of puzzles and riddles and Damen, so it did not take him long to figure out why Damen had gone to such lengths to set this up.

Damen obviously had a gift he wanted to give Laurent and it was here, with these flowers.

Gently, Laurent began to pick the paper blossoms off the table and place them gently on the floor. There were so many flowers, however, that soon he began to sweep small handfuls off, revealing glimpses of what was beneath. As the table began to clear, Laurent’s confusion deepened.

There were several large sheets of paper resting on the table and Laurent studied them intently. He recognized the size and type of paper immediately: it was the wide, table-sized, and progressively thinner parchment used for architectural drawings and he did see the telltale strong lines and tiny measurements. The pages on the table were blueprints.

Laurent looked closely. It was a smaller structure, but open and Akielon in style; the notes on the side dictated the dimensions of the rooms, depth of the floors, and the height of walls, in other words the skeleton of the structure. But there was no indication of what it was actually for. He reached for the sheet underneath and a thinner piece of parchment was laid on top, showcasing where the railings and windows and appliances would go. One more sheet was left and this outlined the furniture’s placement throughout the…well, apparently it was a small home. There was an entryway and a small kitchen with the garden placed in the center of the home in an open-air atrium; the bathroom was expansive and was immediately next-door to an equally enormous room that looked to be a bedroom and a study.

To his surprise, Laurent found one last sheet of parchment, thin as onionskin underneath the first drawing.

As he flipped it to the top, it only added the title of the building and as Laurent translated the Akielon in his mind, his heart began to pound with a thunderous beat. His eyes swam and he had to hold onto the desk to keep from falling over.

Damianos…how he seemed to remember even the most _inane_ of passing compliments was beyond Laurent. How did he remember such a thing, as it was all rushing back to Laurent now…

_“Maybe someday you could build your own palace there.” Damen suggested. “Escape from the rigors of being Auguste’s strategist, head librarian, scholar and translator.”_

And now Laurent was looking at the blueprint of a palace, a tiny one, but a palace nonetheless as it was _his_. It said so right in the corner of the final sheet of paper: Laurent of Vere, Estate on Isthima. It couldn’t be real.

Laurent tried so hard not to let his emotions show, but he felt so overwhelmed he whirled around in dramatics as he felt Damen behind him. The smile was so wide it seemed to almost mock his amazement.

“Good morning, Little Scholar.”

Damen’s deep, honeyed voice mixed with that beloved nickname, made Laurent feel as though he was going to melt into a puddle. He pitched forward and Damen enfolded him into his arms.

“You…you know I’m going to argue with you about this, right?”

“Oh, I would expect nothing less from you.” He sounded so in love, so adoring that Laurent’s hips ached. He wanted Damen to clear the table and bend him over it…

“Dare I ask your reasoning for this display of mismanaged funds?”

“Mmmm you can if you like. I assure you, it’s a good reason.”

Laurent bit his bottom lip in the way he did when he was trying to avoid laughing or crying and looked up at Damen. Secretly, Laurent never got tired of looking at Damen’s fine face: from the strong jaw and high nose to the constant loving twist of his red mouth and his deep, dark eyes that always cut Laurent right to the quick. Hours Laurent had squandered pretending to read or sleep or reflect on his own thoughts when really he had just been sneaking glances at Damen from underneath his eyelashes. It was a face that had visited his dreams ever since he was a youth of fifteen and one that was most attractive up close.

“If you build this for me, I…I shall lock myself inside of it and not speak to you again unless you personally work to make up the funds.” Laurent would do no such thing and Damen knew it.

“It is coming out of my own savings, I assure you.”

“Are you bragging?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Laurent felt his defenses drop all too willingly though he made it seem like he was still lightly irritated. His mind was swirling with the possibilities of his own palace on Isthima.

He could do whatever he liked with the space. The entire building could be a giant library with a single bed. He could spend all four months in Akielos at his palace. He could wander around naked if he so chose. He and Damen could stay together…just the two of them…

“Fine, I’ll bite. Why are you building me this ‘palace’?”

Damen brightened immediately. Apparently it was exactly the question he had wanted to hear. Gently, he pushed Laurent back so they were an arms’ length apart and took a deep breath.

“I am…trying to… _convince_ you. Though now…it seems a little silly.”

“You’ll forgive me for saying…” Laurent began, hoping his expression was as confused as he felt, “But I have no idea what you are meaning to convey. Why are you building this for me?”

Laurent allowed himself to be led to one of the benches as Damen seemed to need a moment to compose himself. When Laurent was seated, Damen knelt on the floor so that he could rest his head on Laurent’s knees. Longing for more intimacy, Laurent ran his hands through Damen’s thick curls.

“Ahhh…I am so in love I can’t think straight…”

Laurent felt his ears burn but he let Damen finish his thoughts.

“To be honest…that palace is only half of your gift. I have a second part I wish to give you…when I find the strength.”

Laurent was undone. Not only did Damen show his affection by a string of constant loving words, sugary intimacy, and adoring attentiveness, he was also fond of lavishing his lovers with gifts. He was so very good and sweet it was almost painful. Laurent wanted to argue but he could sooner convince the sun to stop shining before he could stop Damen when he was determined.

“Damianos. What more can you _possibly_ give me? You have already given me a horse, two libraries, a palace, and…your love.” Damen smiled up at him. “You promise to protect and love me. What more can you possibly offer that I don’t have?” Laurent was actually curious.

Damen reached beneath the bench and Laurent felt his heart smashing itself painfully against his ribcage.

The final gift was placed on Laurent’s lap with a flourish.

The first thing Laurent saw was the handwriting. Loopy, intricate and Veretian, it was his own writing staring back at him. He picked it up with trembling fingers, reading but not comprehending what was written. There it was…in the back of his mind, but never truly forgotten:

_I, Laurent of Vere, second son of his Majesty King Aleron and the late Queen Hennike of Vere, have drawn up this contract to provide my intent of creating a political alliance with my nation of Vere and the nation of Akielos. I do so by offering my hand in consortium to the Exalted One Damianos, the Crown Prince of Akielos, and so offer my skills and presence for the remainder of my life to the nation of Akielos…_

There was more, of course; as flowery as he wrote and as many addendums and stipulations as he had added, but it was his writing nonetheless. And there was his signature down at the bottom---as it was in the other three copies he had made--- but this one was slightly different.

His eyes swam and the paper became blurry as he looked at the four dotted lines at the bottom of the page.

On his copy in Arles, three of the dotted lines were empty, while the fourth contained his own signature of consent. On the copy Damen had given him, all four dotted lines had been signed. There was his father’s intricate signature right next to Theomedes’, and Damen’s was adjoining his own, making the document as good as law. It fell out of Laurent’s hands.

Laurent took one breath in three shaky gasps and launched himself out of the seat. Damen must have been expecting it, because he rolled easily, keeping the two of them from slamming hard on the floor.

“Sweetheart! My Laurent!” He was laughing as he squeezed Laurent. “You are crushing the paper!” Laurent felt large, warm hands weaving through his hair to massage his scalp. “Does this please you?”

Laurent was ashamed that his voice was watery with emotion but at least his expression was hidden. “You fool! I wrote it! Of course I am pleased with it; I am an excellent writer...”

Gently, Laurent felt a hand under his chin, tilting his head up. For the second time in his life, he did not mind that someone was seeing him cry. Of course, he was smiling as well, so it didn't really count.

He had never seen Damen look so overjoyed before. “To answer your question…what more can I give you? I give you my country, my people, my crown. I give you all of Akielos and me.”

Laurent felt breathless and lightheaded. “I never… I sent it to your father and I thought nothing had come of it…”

Damen shifted so Laurent was resting on top of him and Laurent closed his eyes as rough thumbs brushed away his tears. “You must be joking. The day my father received this document, I signed it immediately. I spent two hours explaining to him the advantages of such a match and when he agreed I waited until you arrived in Ios; it was torture, I swear to you. I commissioned for the Snow Prince story to be painted to show you how agonizing it was for me to live without you for most of the year. And the day I told you I loved you, I sent your proposal back to Arles for your father to sign. Yes, I am cocky and eager, but I love you and I want you to stay with me.”

When Damen was passionate like this, Laurent found he could not get a word in edgewise. “You didn’t want me to see it until you wanted.”

“Yes. Serves you right for keeping it a secret from me in the first place.”

“And you don’t mind?” Laurent felt the insecurity and disbelief rising unbidden in his chest. Damen’s confusion only made it more acute. “You don’t mind…a partner who…”

Perhaps Laurent was more transparent than he thought, but Damen instantly interrupted Laurent by kissing each of his wrists. “I’d have no other. No other person can compare to you. Not in looks, not in intelligence, and certainly not in the ability to rule a nation. Imagine my delight when I discovered that you are as skillful in bed as you are out of it.” He said it so lovingly, Laurent only had the heart to smack him lightly on the arm. Damen stopped chuckling to level Laurent with a heart-stopping, smoldering gaze. “I cannot bear to watch you ride away to Vere again. I cannot wait eight months for your to return to me…where you belong. Will you have me, my Snow Prince?”

Laurent’s vision went blurry despite his best efforts and he began to softly pound his fists on Damen’s chest. “I have worried for ages about how I shall manage to remain by your side! It has been tearing my mind to pieces…and I cannot bring myself to leave.” He covered his face with his hands and tears began to drip off of his elbows. “O-Of course I’ll have you! I thought my s-signature was enough proof b-but yes, I will rule with you in Akielos. I-It would be my h-honor!”

Damen roughly pulled Laurent to his chest in his own excitement and Laurent could feel Damen’s heart thundering like a racehorse. He pressed his face into Damen’s chiton, uncaring that he was soaking the fabric.

“Laurent of Vere, you’ll rule Akielos by my side. And I give you this estate as a wedding gift.”

Laurent did not let him finish speaking, as he tossed the document he had written to the side and crushed his lips against Damen’s. Their teeth collided in his haste but he could have cared less. He was so enflamed with love and desire for their future together that he cared little for finesse; he also liked the fact that Damen seemed taken aback by his boldness. Laurent was out of his mind with the want.

Laurent practically tore off his own robe and then began to pull at Damianos’ clothes while they kissed and Damen began to laugh.

“Laurent... _mmph!_ What has--- _mmm_ \---gotten _into_ you?”

Laurent felt breathless and---given the time---he felt he might just become comfortable with wandering around Isthima in the nude; it felt nice now. He could feel his cock ache and his eyes rolled back in his head a little as Damen began to suckle on his neck.

Laurent tried to make his voice come out smooth and assured, but it came out rasped and breathy in a way he knew Damen liked; he could feel the ‘approval’ rising beneath his ass. “I am in need of…a _ride_ …on my fiancée…”

Damen groaned at the mention of ‘fiancée’ and shifted so that Laurent could slide off his chiton. Laurent grinned; he could play this beloved man like a fiddle.

Laurent made a noise between a yelp and a laugh as Damen scooped him into the air and carted him to the closest couch and deposited him onto it. Laurent tossed his left leg easily over the back of the couch in a picture of nonchalance, though he did so to give Damen an uninterrupted view of his whole body. He had to suppress a giggle when he caught a glimpse of Damen’s expression. He looked like a man deprived of water that had just been shown to a marble fountain.

“Akielon animal,” Laurent laughed softly in Veretian.

“Mmmm,” Damen ran his lips up the soft skin of Laurent’s inner thigh, “I believe you mispronounced ‘fiancée’…or ‘future husband’…or ‘ _mine_ ’…”

Laurent was so enamored, he did not even bother to correct Damen. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Damen’s neck and pulled him down.

 

The morning of the okton, Laurent was veritably vibrating with nerves and excitement. Despite the fact that he had won at the archery butts yet again and received a most pleasurable reward from Damen after dinner that night, he was a bundle of anxiety. Only a few people took note, even though he did his damndest to hide it.

Damen had simply kissed him and assured him that he would handle everything. Isander had given him an assortment of light finger foods and a knowing look as if Laurent were carrying a child. So Laurent turned to Auguste.

They walked down to the pitch together, Laurent in his pale blue himation---so unsuited for the occasion, but he wore it for Damen’s sake---and Auguste in his silver-edged chiton for the competition. Auguste gripped him by the shoulders, but Laurent felt as though he was a lad of thirteen again. He leaned against his brother.

“Laurent, be not afraid.” Auguste murmured, feeling the tension rolling off his brother. “You have waited so long for this…”

Laurent glanced up at him. “How do you know what I’m nervous about?”

“Please!” Auguste scoffed. “I have grown up with you; despite all your deceptive tendencies, I know when you’re strained. And Damianos, bless his heart, cannot keep his emotions secret to save his life. I know what the two of you are up to…and I have already given my blessing to the both of you. It is your life, my brother; you must live it as it suits you best.”

Laurent felt a bit more relaxed after hearing this from Auguste but there was still another matter that made him feel like his heart was cracking. “I wish…this moment could last longer…you leave for Arles in a few days and I…and I…” Laurent could not bring himself to say it aloud and he leaned harder into his beloved brother.

Auguste also looked pained for a split second before he could compose himself. But he also clutched Laurent a little tighter. “Yes…I know. When we---when I ride back for Vere, you are going to stay. But I will write you every day. And I will visit Ios at every possible opportunity. As much as it pains me to be separated from you, Laurent, I think your happiness is worth the pain we’ll both endure. So smile, my brother, smile and be merry for your future is at a hand.”

“I’ll miss you,” Laurent whispered honestly; even though they would write to each other, it would not be the same. He had never experienced life without Auguste.

“And I will miss you. But I think you will thrive here. And he loves you, Laurent, more than anyone else in Four Kingdoms.”

“More than you?” Laurent teased.

“I’d not fuck you.” Auguste responded and it elicited a laugh from Laurent.

By the time they had finished their conversation, the two of them had arrived at the okton pitch and a healthy crowd had already assembled in the stands. A small cheer arose at the sight of Auguste in his silvers and Damen perked up at the sight of the golden brothers. He abandoned his horse to trot over to them.

He greeted Auguste with a customary embrace and Auguste looked away pointedly as Damen hugged Laurent with a bit more intimacy.

In the warm circle of Damen’s arms, the anxiety was squeezed out of Laurent’s lean form and he sighed in relief. Auguste was right. No matter how much he loved and would miss his brother, no matter how he would miss the familiar walls of Arles or the constant lilt of the Veretian language, it all paled in comparison to Damianos. He could find this comfort and feeling of safety in no other. He needed this, he was addicted to it, a captive to Damen’s love. It was no choice at all and his confidence came rushing back in just the brief span of their embrace.

“Sweetheart,” Damianos whispered, “Are you ready?”

Laurent smiled back at him. “Ride as if to die, my love.”

Now it was all in Damen’s hands and Laurent became less nervous and more excited with each passing moment. He took his seat next to King Theomedes and tried to look cool and impassive; Theomedes nodded at him. He had given his congratulations to the two of them when they had arrived back in Ios and gave his son leave to announce the alliance to the court whenever he chose.

Damen was a sucker for theatrics.

It was like déjà vu from the very first okton Laurent had ever attended. The crowds cheered loudly and waved their silks in the colors of their chosen riders. Veretian and Akielon soldiers alike traded coins in the last few moments before the competition began and the riders greeted each other in acknowledgement of the trial set before them.

But everything was different as well.

Orlant moved so that he was subtly blocking Isander from the direct line of fire and Isander blushed at the attention while next to him Aimeric had a length of silk in dark blue---Jord’s color---tucked into the waistband of his chiton. Lazar was riding in the okton today and looked just as Akielon as Pallas, who had just finished kissing his husband and now waited impatiently on the sidelines. Kastor’s children watched their uncle from their grandfather’s couch and Timon already looked as though he ached to participate. And Laurent was no longer a child; he was a grown man who was about to have his life changed forever.

Theomedes called the men forward to present themselves and Laurent could not tear his eyes away from Damianos and he felt his heart beating fast in his throat.

As the men bowed before their king, only Damen stepped forward.

Theomedes smiled knowingly as he watched his sons’ progress and gave only the slightest of glances to Laurent. “Damianos, my son.” He sighed; he knew what was coming. “Do you have anything to say to the court, the kyroi and myself before you compete?” Laurent pushed on the balls of his feet as the entire crowd hushed in deference.

“My honorable kyroi, lords and ladies of court, I bring you joy.” Damen’s deep voice boomed easily throughout the natural amphitheater and it sent a shiver from Laurent’s spine to his crotch; it was so sexy to hear him command attention as a king would. “To announce my engagement on this most auspicious occasion.”

The crowd, which had been politely silent not a moment before, was now awash with astonished whispers as everyone undoubtedly considered their chances to be announced.

Damen had explained one afternoon as he kissed Laurent’s fingers that love matches were very common in Akielos, even amongst royalty, as everyone was so passionate and hot-blooded it would be foolish to try and prevent it. Family feuds, love suicides, and kidnapping lovers before their arranged marriages had been so common in the past that one of Damianos’ great grandmothers had done away with arranged marriages altogether after all ten of her wayward children had eloped with slaves and sailors and the children of kyroi. Thus, it was the only matter of state Damen could choose for himself without consulting the kyroi.

Said kyroi must have been pissing in their tunics at the thought of Damianos choosing one of their children to wed.

When Damen raised one of his hands, everyone fell silent again and he smiled at the perfection of the situation. He knew his choice, so abrupt and advantageous, would scandalize his court. “And I ask your permission, father, to announce my decision publicly once I have won the okton.”

A groan rippled through the audience and Laurent and Auguste rolled their eyes in tandem; Damen loved to cause grief that was for sure.

King Theomedes grinned at his son’s agonizing ploy. “Ahhh…how have I managed to raise such a wicked child? Go on then, compete for your glory my son, and tell us of your delight when you return triumphant.”

‘Arrogant,’ Auguste mouthed to Laurent, but Laurent only paid it the briefest mind as Damen glanced at him before turning back. Though it was only fleeting, it was filled with such excitement, desire, and determination in the black depths that Laurent felt his own icy stomach catch fire. He had no doubt that Damen would win and that competition sent him into such a heat that Laurent would get the ride of his life the moment they were alone.

He was unnaturally fidgety during the okton, his knees knocking and hands twisting in his lap as he watched. His eyes traced Damen’s form methodically and his ass prickled as he watched his lover throw and ride in near perfect form. And he felt glorious exaltation as everyone else was on edge because this gorgeous prince was going to marry and it was all for naught. Damianos was _his_ , and this truth was nearly unbearable for Laurent to keep inside of him.

The world was spinning for him; noise was a dull roar in the back of his eardrums and colors whirled into a hazy amalgam in his peripheral. The only thing in focus was Damen.

It was such that Laurent ruined the surprise.

When the final spear hit its’ mark and the crowd was on its’ feet, Laurent launched himself up with ease. When Damianos was sliding off his horse to receive his praise, smile wide in victory, Laurent was running from the royal box. Heedless of all else but the desire in his bloodstream, Laurent was on the pitch and, before his brother and his Veretian guards, the royal family and his future court, he had run into Damen’s arms and felt himself being lifted high into the air.

And as their mouths met, the crowd went silent with the shock of Damianos’ choice.


	26. Year 22 (Part 0)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow...  
> 120,000 words later and this story is coming to an end.
> 
> You guys might be wondering why I didn't describe the wedding and it's because I really don't like writing about weddings haha! But also it's because I wanted to show that Damen and Laurent are still crazy about each other, still very passionate and fun even after a few years together.
> 
> Thank you all for your kudos and comments! I'm so glad that the lot of you have enjoyed my ramblings; I enjoyed each and every one of your comments. Enjoy this final chapter of Love of the Second Star!

** Akielos: Year 22 (Part 0) **

“How now, Little Wife?”

Toria of Patras smiled sardonically over at her husband as he reined his horse in beside her. “I am anything but ‘little’, my husband.” She felt comfortable teasing him, now that she had gotten a handle on the Veretian sense of humor and the temperament of her husband.

Auguste quirked his eyebrow at her quick wit and then glanced down lovingly at her rounded belly. “True, but I like you carrying my child just as well.”

 _Flatterer_ , Toria thought to herself as she tried not to succumb to a blush.

She considered herself extraordinarily lucky in her marriage. Auguste of Vere was brave, sweet, and handsome even if his personality was inclined to wickedness at times. The two had been married for a year and a half now, and Vere was rejoicing at her youth and her pregnancy. Toria was the youngest and the only princess in Patras and having four older brothers had given her thick skin to survive in the oft-duplicitous court of Vere.

The first time she had met Auguste of Vere was the day before their arranged wedding. Much was her pleasant surprise when Auguste immediately approved of her and even complimented an aspect she was most self-conscious of: the freckles that covered most of her skin. In Patras, her brothers would tease her about them, but Auguste seemed to love them and often counted them in the privacy of their shared bedchamber. He also encouraged her to do activities unheard of in Vere that were commonplace for a lady of the house in Patras, such as gardening, cooking, and practicing as a medic. Now she wondered if he encouraged her out of his own delight in seeing his court scandalized by the activities, but she kept her suspicions quiet so as not to ruin his amusement.

“Truly, you are a thoughtful husband. Having me ride over hill and dale in my condition…”

Auguste laughed at her cheekiness and took her hand to his lips. “I know you are made of sterner stuff than that. What with the way you manipulated your way into coming with us? Hell couldn’t have stood in your path.”

She smiled in satisfaction. “Your joy is my own. And my curiosity is piqued when it comes to your brother.”

Their group was riding for Akielos to visit said brother. Toria had only met Laurent of Vere briefly on two occasions and she had not spent long in his company. The first time was two years ago on the wedding day of Prince Laurent to Damianos of Akielos. Most of the royal family of Patras had been invited but there had been so many people present that Toria had not been able to speak to either of them at length. The entire palace had been filled with flowers, both real and---oddly---folded paper, and the party was open and airy in the Akielon style. All she remembered of the grooms was that Damianos was huge, handsome, and positively delighted at the entire occasion and that Laurent was sleek, pale, and beautiful though he was much more controlled than his husband, his smile and blush soft as any bride’s. The ceremony had been lavish and even Toria felt a pang of jealousy with how sweetly the two men held each other throughout the rest of the night. They had looked at each other like they were the only two souls in the crowded palace.

The second time had also been just as brief even though it had been at her own nuptials. Though Damianos and Laurent had spent a few months in Arles beforehand, Toria only met them formally once or twice during the roar of activity, and they had returned to Ios before things had calmed down.

Auguste spoke of the both of them with the greatest love and admiration, so she could not help but be curious about them.

Toria had heard many astonishing things about the married princes.

Of Damianos, she heard he was an enormous man with an enormous appetite for sport, love, and power. His reputation was legendary amongst the men in Arles; from the borders and Akielos and Auguste, she heard that he was a kind, loyal, and even-tempered prince, not spendthrift or dishonorable or lazy. Though there was still some residual astonishment and jealousy in Vere that he had chosen Prince Laurent as a partner, it was widely known they were a nearly perfect team when it came to statesmanship.

Of Laurent, people painted a starkly different picture, depending on who they were. In Vere the most of the response was resoundingly negative: a lying brat, cold and mirthless with a mouth on him like a razor blade. However, more often she was hearing from Auguste and visitors from Akielos that he was the perfect balance for Damianos and a ruler in his own right: perceptive and attentive, diplomatic and kind, with an intellect so vast that it stunned people to silence. Though it was widely known Damianos was head over heels for his partner, Auguste had confided that Laurent was just as devoted, he just hid it better.

He was such a puzzle, this second Veretian prince, that Toria wished to meet him herself and make her own judgment.

So she had stood firm and wheedled her way into coming with Auguste on a month-long trip to Ios, despite her early pregnancy. And it had the added benefit that she could see the lovely Veretian countryside. They had ridden out of Aquitart early in the morning and were almost to Marlas.

Auguste and Toria gently continued their verbal sparring match until they reached the old fort and Auguste’s eyes lit up in recognition and delight. Two pairs waited for them on the stone steps, but there was no telltale flash of Veretian blond. Four men greeted Toria as Auguste helped her dismount and to her surprise all of the men spoke fluent Veretian.

“Your majesty, it pleases me to welcome you to Vere! I am Pallas and this is my husband, Lazar. We are soldiers in the royal guard and we have been sent to accompany you to the capital of Ios along with,” He gestured to the two other men, “Prince Laurent’s assistant and his fiancée.”

Toria was struck by the great beauty of Laurent’s personal assistant. Just on looks, he seemed more suited to be a pet than an assistant, what with his long legs and large, dark eyes.

Isander was blood Akielon but his fiancée, Orlant, was definitely from Vere.

Toria commented to Auguste as they rode on with their new companions. “Prince Damianos certainly has a knack for marrying your countrymen into his services.” Auguste began to laugh at the truth of it. “Two of your soldiers _and_ your brother? You must be fearful of bringing a large retinue on your visits.”

“If he didn’t love Laurent so much, I’d be worried he’d snatch you too.”

However, she could find their charms apparent as she conversed with the lovely Isander on most of their ride to Ios. She found him sweet, intelligent, and full of praises for his master, and it made her even more interested in Laurent of Vere and Damianos of Akielos. Her heart was beating rapidly as their group entered the gates in Ios.

A shout echoed through the courtyard the moment Auguste rode inside and, in his joy, he dismounted, leaving Toria to be helped down by Orlant and Lazar. She did not begrudge him, as she knew how he missed his brother.

The first things she noticed was how close Laurent and Damianos were, even after greeting Auguste. The moment they stepped away from their greetings, they were next to each other again, never touching outright, but somehow even more intimate for how their fingers lightly brushed or how their hips grazed ever so slightly or the glances given from underneath black and blond eyelashes. She almost felt like she was intruding on them.

She was also struck by just how handsome the two of them were. She was almost speechless by Laurent, who had features any woman would be proud to call her own.

“Sister,” he called her, kissing her lightly on both cheeks, “welcome to my home.” His eyes glowed with happiness when he saw her rounded belly. “And I welcome my future niece or nephew as well.”

Damianos beamed at the sound of Laurent’s voice and placed his hand lightly in the small of his husband’s back, as he too came to offer his greetings. Toria had to look up to see him properly and liked what she saw. Damianos was huge, dark, and cheerful with a great amount of personal force; she heard various laments from the older pets in Arles that Damianos only ever took pleasure in one lover these days and for the foreseeable future.

“Welcome back you rogue,” Damianos commented to Auguste as they were being shown to their rooms. “I took the liberty of sending---.”

“I’ll _kill_ you.” Auguste hissed, looking as though he might leap on Damianos at any moment. Laurent bit back a smile.

“Will you let me finish?” Damianos laughed, raising his hands in peace. “I took the liberty of sending servants to your room to supply it with foods for your wife. I am assured that they are all light and pleasing for an expecting mother.” He nodded to Toria and she flushed with thanks. He was a very attentive host.

“If you seduce my wife to stay with you in Ios, I will take my brother back to Arles.” Auguste responded suspiciously.

Laurent laughed at the witty retort, but Damen’s eyes were a little sharp at the idea.

Toria smiled to herself over just how protective Damianos was.

The rooms were indeed gorgeous and airy, though a little sparse by Patran and Veretian standards. Perhaps not realizing just how tiring the journey was, Toria immediately collapsed onto the bed, gently cradling her belly. Auguste took in what was probably a familiar view before coming to join her and count the freckles on her stomach.

The two of them dozed lightly until around mid-afternoon when it was Auguste who awoke first and gently informed her that he would be in the sparring grounds if she should need him. He kissed her lightly on the mouth before exiting and Toria decided that she should also rise and explore.

She had a quick dip in the baths and changed into Akielon garb; it was in this area that Auguste should be worried about her staying, she thought. The clothes were so light and breezy in comparison to Veretian fashion, it was heaven for someone who was four months along and in no need of constrictive fabrics. She felt much better as she exited her quarters.

As the only girl and the youngest in her family, Toria was often left to her own devices and was much taken with exploring.

Though not as labyrinthine as the castle in Arles, the palace of Ios was still enormous. However, this time of day not many people were out in the hallways in order to avoid the heat. She saw maybe a handful of servants who only gave her the briefest of acknowledgments as they hurried along on some chore or another. She didn’t mind; it was almost like being invisible.

She explored the airy palace well until late afternoon, finding a variety of scholar’s nooks, ladies’ solars, a room stocked floor-to-ceiling with nothing but oils, soaps, and other bathing essentials, and various other useful quarters.

She was about to turn back and attempt to find her way back to her quarters, when she heard---what sounded like---someone running barefoot across the mosaic floors. Quietly, she peeked her head around the corner to see…and instantly felt her entire head flush.

Toria, despite her pregnant bulk, ran through the corridors, as if escaping something.

When she somehow managed to find her way back to her rooms, Auguste was already back waiting for her and seemed confused as she slammed the door shut behind her. At first, he was startled when he saw her shaking, but relaxed a little when he saw it was with laughter.

“Darling, little wife,” Auguste asked, gently running his hands through her brown hair, “what on earth are you giggling about?”

Toria _wanted_ to tell him amidst her fit of laughing, but how could she? How could she explain to Auguste that she had just seen cool, beautiful Laurent of Vere, husband to Damianos of Akielos and brother to her own husband, walking naked through the halls of the palace?

 

Laurent walked quickly from his library to the quarters he shared with Damen; he walked quickly because he felt he was being watched. He had been assured that the servants didn’t care about him wandering around nude---and almost no one else would be in this part of the palace at this time of day---but he still held onto the faintest shred of modesty and really only liked Damen to see him in this state. And Damen _liked_ to see him in this state.

Laurent spun as he shut the doors behind him so that Damen could get an uninterrupted view of his back, ass, and legs. He smiled when he heard the sigh of desire from behind him.

“Oh turn around, my Snow Prince. Don’t tease me so.”

Smoothing his expression, Laurent turned around and realized that he had perhaps misjudged Damen’s distance from him. If he reached out his hand, it would brush against Damen’s hip. He looked up from under his eyelashes.

“I only just arrived, calm down.”

“How can I calm down?” Damen’s voice was thick with desire even after being married for two years, even after having Laurent every which way. It was almost flattering. “When I see the most perfect ass in four kingdoms inside of my rooms---“

“ _Our_ rooms.” Laurent corrected if only to see Damen’s eyes burn dark and deep in a way that made Laurent more enflamed than anything else.

“In our rooms. How can I not be tempted?”

As Damen began to nuzzle his neck, Laurent threw his arms across Damen’s shoulders. But he was as practical as ever. “We have to go to dinner. We must since Auguste is here…”

“Mmmm…” That noise could mean either Damen wasn’t listening or didn’t care. “I have something I’d much rather eat instead…” And as he hoisted Laurent up into the air, he laughed as Laurent had clapped his hands over his ears to hide the blush that was surely raging.

“Dirty.” Laurent whispered, though they both knew he did not mean it.

Damen silenced that contrary mouth with his own and Laurent dove in with relish. He wrapped his legs around Damen’s waist so that his lover could also do away with the constraints of clothing. There was a purpose to everything Laurent did, and the reason he left his chiton in his library and returned naked was to enflame Damen. It had worked beautifully.

Groping each other unashamedly, Damen staggered into the bathroom.

That sealed it then: they would be late to dinner.

The bathroom was special to Laurent. It was the first place he got a full view of the body he wanted so badly, the cock that he had secretly earmarked as the one he wanted, as well as the first place he---at the late-blooming age of sixteen---got his first involuntary erection upon seeing the body he was now entwined around. It was the place he and Damen saved for last when it came to making love.

Both of them, shy and blushing as virgin maids, had shared their first bath together in almost five years on their wedding night.

Now they rarely bathed without each other.

Laurent shivered---Damen always teased him that he was melting---as he was submerged chest-deep into the warm water and his body relaxed, truly relaxed, as Damen slid behind him. Long, warm fingers twisted into his gold hair and began to massage shampoo into a rich lather on his scalp.

Laurent allowed himself to make a small sound of delight; Damen liked when he did.

Despite his earlier warning of attending dinner, Laurent had conveniently forgotten as he and Damen went about the detailed task of washing each other; sponges were abandoned, as only hands were used for such a delicate procedure.

Before long Laurent found himself half out of the bath, his mind riddled from the steam as Damen ran his tongue wherever he liked between Laurent’s legs. It was at times like these that Laurent could not believe his good fortune, could not believe that someone he desired could love him so much. Moreover that he was married to this beloved person.

It was such an exhilarating feeling that Laurent ejaculated without shame into the warm water of the tub.

He was becoming more open with his pleasure thanks to Damen’s near-constant praise and he liked how satisfied Damen looked after Laurent achieved an orgasm. He looked overjoyed now, from where he was nestled: his dark, warm cheek resting securely on the curve of Laurent’s ass. He smiled wide and white up at Laurent and then used his right hand to slap the free ass cheek. Laurent kicked him lightly in the stomach.

“Shall we get ready for dinner, sweetheart?”

“You haven’t…” Laurent motioned indicatively to Damen’s cock.

“Mmmm…” Damen moved up so that he could place a volley of kisses all over Laurent’s face. “Make it up to me after dinner?” Laurent rolled his eyes to hide his quivering excitement.

Despite a few more small lapses in their preparations, Laurent and Damen were able to show up for dinner on time and suitably dressed, even though their eyes were a little shiny and cheeks slightly flushed. When eyes were on them, Laurent took Damen’s hand in his own, a small but clear message: he’s mine.

Toria of Patras glanced at the gesture and hid her smile behind her hand.

In this moment, as Laurent took his seat at the royal table, he felt a happiness inside of him that he would have scarcely believed possible a few years ago. Here in front of him were the people he cherished as subjects: Isander, Pallas, Lazar, Aimeric, Orlant, Jord, Nikandros…he had his nieces and nephews, Timon smiling at him from further down the table as well as the mystery child still safe in his sister-in-law’s womb…and safe when if it came out a boy, for Auguste had exiled his uncle to the rocky islands the moment his wife had become pregnant. Auguste, his beloved brother was on his left and on his right was Damianos still holding his hand, rubbing it in reminder of the joys he would bestow when it was just the two of them tonight.

Laurent was happy.

** The End **


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